


summer slipped us underneath her tongue

by honeydripping



Series: we're dancing in a world alone [1]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: 2015 NHL Entry Draft Ensemble, Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Background Relationships, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Miscommunication, Rule 63, USNTDP Ensemble - Freeform, Women in the NHL, au where noah didn't cut his hair short again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-06
Updated: 2018-10-06
Packaged: 2019-07-25 04:51:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 36,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16190453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeydripping/pseuds/honeydripping
Summary: “Can I ask you something?”Jack doesn’t like where this is going. “Sure.”“Do you know what you’re doing?” Auston asks.“Never in my life,” she says, grinning.





	summer slipped us underneath her tongue

**Author's Note:**

> IF YOU FOUND THIS THROUGH GOOGLE, KNOW ANYONE MENTIONED IN THIS FIC, OR ARE MENTIONED IN THIS FIC: dear god please turn back now. this is, obviously, a work of fiction, but some of the events mentioned within are inspired by real life.
> 
> Title from The Louvre by Lorde.
> 
> Big shoutout to [Cayce](https://archiveofourown.org/users/strangeasangels/pseuds/strangeasangels) for sticking with me through all of this.
> 
> Brief warning for some diet talk. None of it is about gaining or losing weight, it’s more of sticking to and blowing summer diet plans. Proceed with caution if that’s a sensitive topic for you.
> 
> Small warning for a character having sex with someone when they're not in the right frame of mind. They give consent and their partner checks in with them multiple times, but they probably should not be having sex.

 

Jack’s been ready to go for thirty minutes when Noah finally reappears from the back of the bar. Her hair is frizzing up in the stale, thick air, her shirt is sticking to her, and her beer is too warm to enjoy. When he sees her, he gives her a smile that only means one thing—he’s met a girl and he’s abandoning her for the night. 

“Nice one, Hanny,” she says, giving him a high-five before downing the rest of her warm beer. “What’s she like?” 

“Just a Boston girl. You know.” She does. Jack hasn’t seen her, but she’s sure that she’s loud and brash and pretty in that New England way. Just how Hanny and every other Boston guy seems to like them.

“You already fuck?”

“Jesus, Jack,” Noah mumbles under his breath, laughing.

“What? It’s an honest question. You disappear for thirty minutes, what’s a girl to think?” He’s blushing a little, all school-boy soft around the edges. “She get down on her knees for you in the bathroom? Or maybe,” she whispers, leaning in close, “you got on your knees for her?”

Noah smiles, thumbing his lip. Jack howls at that, elbowing him.  

“And where is she? You taking her home?” 

Noah’s nodding, “Yeah she went to get her bag. Said she’d meet me back here in a few.”

So, they wait. Five minutes turn into ten, ten into fifteen. But when fifteen turns into twenty, Noah stands, pays off his tab and starts to head towards the door with Jack hot on his heels.

“Damn, Hanifin. That’s cold. Can’t believe that chick dipped like that.”

Noah grunts in acknowledgement.

“Maybe your dick game isn’t as great as you thought,” Jack jokes. In front of her Noah’s shoulders tense, raising up around his quickly reddening ears.

Jack isn’t expecting Noah to stop in front of her, and she certainly isn’t expecting him to spin around and back her into the wall of the bar. “My dick game is fine, Eichs. Trust me, I know what I’m doing.”

His ego has clearly been bruised, and if Jack were smarter, she’d leave it alone. But Jack’s never claimed to be a particularly smart girl.

“Oh yeah?”

“ _Yeah_.” There’s a dangerous glint in his eye, one that makes heat settle low in her belly.

“Wanna prove it?” Jack asks, looking up through her lashes at him. She sees the moment it clicks for him. He leans back, before taking two steps forward into her space.

“That how it is, Eichs?”

“Could be,” she says, biting her lower lip, “if you hurry up, I’ll give you home ice advantage and everything.”

Noah nods, more to himself than anyone else, before all but dragging her back to his car. He opens the passenger door for her, and before she can get out a quip about not being that kind of lady, he’s got both of his big hands cupped around her jaw, tilting her head back, kissing her soundly. His mouth is soft on hers and he tastes like the beers he’s been drinking. 

Jack could never, has never been described as petite. She’s never been lean or lithe or willowy. She’s tall and broad through the shoulders; narrow hips, with thick thighs and ass for days. But in that moment, when Noah presses her up against the side of his car? Well. She can feel how powerful he is, how _big_ he is and she likes how it makes her feel. She _wants_. When he pulls back to look her in the eyes, she knows she’s fucked.

The car ride back to Noah’s isn’t long, objectively, but she feels like she’s shaking out of her skin. She doesn’t really look over at him, but she can see his hand making abortive movements on the center console out of the corner of her eye. Jack rolls her eyes after a few more minutes of that, before grabbing his right hand and putting it squarely on her thigh. She turns to look at him just in time to see him swallow hard.  

“You good, Hanny?” she asks. He nods, humming, but she can see the way his left hand is white-knuckling the steering wheel, can feel the way his right hand is flexing on her thigh.

—

Jack has never claimed to be a good girl. In fact, her reputation in the NHL is very much that of a bad girl. Before she’d even been drafted, the media had written about how Boston’s own Miss Joanna “Jack” Eichel had been caught in a boy’s room on multiple occasions in the NTDP or published pictures of her drinking underage at BU. She can think of a particularly popular picture of her doing a keg stand in an American flag bikini bottom and nothing else. 

Whatever the press had said, she loves that picture. 

It’s things like that that spooked some of the teams in the NHL. Sure, she could admit that Connor McDavid would always have an edge on her when it came to raw, in-born talent, but… Jack had skill, too. She had ambition and determination. She had the ability to carry a team on her back if she had to. But little miss Connor McDavid was a media darling and a goody-two-shoes. She’d never been caught in a compromising position, never so much as been seen with a boy (beyond Dylan fucking Strome), hell, maybe never even been with a guy at all. And the media _loved_ it. The NHL loved it. She was the poster girl for their brand of uptight, asswad conservative. Jack hated it. (Hated _her_ sometimes too.)

Buffalo wasn’t scared of her or her reputation. She liked that about them. Liked that they liked that about her. Her bravado. Her attitude problem. The chip on her shoulder the size of New England. They wanted to cultivate it, watch it grow. And though they sometimes weren’t in love with her off-ice antics, they left her alone. By her third season in the NHL, it was no secret that Jack Eichel was fucking her way through the league, one player at a time. 

So, no. Jack wasn’t a good girl. But _god_ did she love being bad. 

—

Jack would be lying if she said she’s never thought about this before—fucking Noah. They’ve known each other long enough at this point that he knows how she is. Knows that Jack would describe herself as easy, knows what she likes in bed, knows she knows how to ask for it. Anyone who’s spent enough time with Jack knows all of that. 

So when they get to Noah’s apartment and he pulls back from where he’s sucking a mark on her collarbone to ask, “Can I go down on you?” it’s a no-brainer for Jack.

She follows him down the hall to his room, pausing in the doorway when they get there. She’s not nervous, but like, this is a big step. On this side of the door, they’re still just Jack and Noah, former teammates, friends, hockey bros. On the other side of the door, lies something new entirely.

Jack watches as Noah walks to the side of his bed, turning on a lamp, before turning back to her.

“Lights on?” she asks.

He shrugs and smiles. “Like to see what I’m working with.”  

Jack swallows. She’s not opposed to it in the slightest, just not used to it. With a lot of the guys she’s hooked up with in the past, she’s lucky if they even remember to close the door. Getting off is their top priority, always. 

Noah approaches her slowly, like he’ll spook her otherwise. When he’s standing in front of where she’s leaning in the doorway, he asks, “You good, Eichs?”

He tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, and she nods. “Never better,” she promises, before leaning in to kiss him.

Jack’s tall. Not tall for a girl. Just, _tall_. She’s used to being the same height as her hookups, and sometimes even a little taller. But with Noah, he’s got a few inches on her, enough for her to have to tilt her head up to kiss him. She’s painfully into it.

He kisses her slowly, pressing her back into the doorframe, with his hands on her hips. She shudders when she feels his thumbs rubbing circles into the space above her shorts. 

“Can we move this to the bed?” Noah asks. He takes a step back, extending his hand towards Jack. Nothing about his body language is demanding, and Jack knows that if she changed her mind, he’d take her home, no questions asked. 

She takes his hand, and steps into the room, leaving behind all prior definitions of “Jack and Noah”.

—

Jack isn’t shy about her body. She’s spent years playing sports, sharing locker rooms with boys and men. It’s impossible to be. When she was younger, she used to dress out in empty shower stalls or closets; but by the time she hit sixteen, she’d strip her gear off, shy teammates be damned.  

So when Noah pulls her shirt over her head, she’s surprised by her own reaction. In all the hookups she’s had since she was a teenager, she’s never felt compelled to cover up. But something about how heavy Noah’s gaze is on her body makes her feel bashful.

“Holy shit, Jack,” he says on an exhale. She’s expecting him to be staring at her tits, but he’s staring at her face instead—at _her_. 

When he kisses her this time, it’s heated. It’s comfortable and it’s what Jack’s used to feeling. Whatever mood she’d just been in, it’s gone in instant. She sinks her hands into his long hair and pulls him closer to her, licking into his mouth.

“You said something about eating me out?” she asks when they pull away for air. 

“Yeah, if you think you can handle it,” he says, unhooking her bra and pulling it down her arms.

Jack rolls her eyes. “Okay _lines_. You don’t have to wheel me, you know.”

Instead of replying, Noah grabs her ass with both of his hands, lifting her up off the floor. By instinct, she wraps her legs around his waist, but it doesn’t save her from the embarrassing yelp she lets out.

“Holy shit, Noah,” she breathes out, before he drops her down on the bed. He follows her onto the mattress, kneeling between her spread thighs, dropping kisses across her shoulders, breasts, and down her abs. When he gets to the waistband of her shorts, he sits back on his haunches, and stares down at her.

“Seriously, Eichs… _wow_.” Jack rolls her eyes, but she feels the flush spread out across her cheeks and down her chest. She knows her face has gone red and splotchy.  

“C’mon, Hanny. Hurry up and get to work.” 

“Got somewhere else to be?” He asks, undoing the button of her shorts, before pulling them down her legs, along with her underwear.

Whatever she was going to say, dies before it can leave her mouth, because Noah’s sliding off the bed to kneel on the floor between her thighs. He pulls her down the bed by her calves, throwing her thighs over his shoulders. He looks _good_ there, and Jack has to close her eyes for just a moment.   

She knows she’s wet already, could tell from the way her underwear had been clinging to her. Noah can tell too, especially now with how open she is to him.

“Shit, Jack,” he whispers, running his thumb over her, spreading her open. He kisses the crease of her thigh, before throwing an arm over her hips and leaning in to lick over her with broad, flat strokes of his tongue.

When he looks up at her, his chin is shiny from his own saliva and how slick she is. Jack can see how he’s flushing down his face and neck, how his hips are twitching against the edge of the mattress. It’s so fucking hot.

Noah’s got his big hands cupped around her ass, squeezing and rubbing. When he pulls her closer to him, Jack realizes she’s nearly half off the bed. It’s overwhelming. In an instant, she realizes that she has no leverage. Like this, she’s all his. It makes something simmer in her, a slow boil.

“Hanny, c’mon,” Jack begs, grabbing a fistful of his hair.

“Need something, Eichs?” he mumbles into her. 

“Get your fingers in me or get out of the way.” 

He smirks at her as he slowly presses one, then two fingers into her, watching as her back bows. She digs her heels into his shoulder blades and pants when he starts to fuck her in earnest.

“I’m close, Hanny. Can you—”

Noah licks around where he’s fingering her open, before sucking on her clit hard. Jack’s hand grasps for his hair, holding him in place. Her nails bite into his scalp and he groans as she starts to come. He fucks her through it before pulling back, watching as his fingers slip out of her. 

Jack makes the mistake of looking down in time to see Noah rub his thumb over her clit one last time before leaning back in for a final taste. He groans as he slips his tongue over her, flicking at her clit, then presses his tongue into her where she’s soft and fucked open. She closes her eyes tight at that image. When she looks back at him, he’s smirking. Jack flips him off and Noah proceeds to put his fingers in his mouth one by one, licking them clean.

She kicks him in the shoulder for that. “Fuck off, Hanny. That’s not fair.”

“I could do this all day, Eichs,” he says, grinning at her.

She groans, pulling him up roughly by his shirt. “How are you still dressed?” she asks, kissing him roughly.

“Was kind of busy,” he replies, smiling lazily down at her. 

Jack rolls her eyes. “Hurry up and get a fucking condom on so you can fuck me, asshole.”

“What if I wanted to do something different?” She levels a glare at him. 

Noah laughs, but does as she says, getting a condom from his nightstand before stripping down and crawling back over to her. She grabs the condom from him, tearing it open before rolling it onto him with practiced ease. He inhales sharply and Jack freezes as they both realize that this is the first time she’s touched him. Noah watches her as she bites her lip and strokes him a few times, thumbing at the head before letting go.

“Alright, pal, on your back,” Jack says as she pats his hip, moving to get up on her knees.

“Don’t call me ‘pal’ in bed.”

“I’m gonna ride you into next sunday, dude.” 

“You’re the fucking worst,” Noah groans, but sits with his back against the headboard all the same. Jack straddles him moments later, one hand on the headboard, one hand grasping him as she starts to sink down onto him. She goes slow, taking him in inch by inch.  

Jack’s had a lot of sex with a lot of guys. Guys with big dicks, guys with small dicks. Thick dicks, skinny dicks. Guys who don’t have dicks at all. She wouldn’t call herself a size queen, though others may beg to differ. So she prefers bigger dicks. Sue her.  

Noah, she’s delighted to find, is so thick, that it kind of scrambles her brain a little. She’s definitely going to feel this tomorrow.

When she’s seated, Jack kisses him. She moans when he runs his tongue over hers, dragging her nails down his chest when he bites at her lip. His fingers are pressing marks into her hips where he’s grabbing her, starting to fuck up into her with short, shallow thrusts. She pants into his mouth and starts circling her hips.

“Come on, Jackie, show me what you can do.” She fucking _hates_ when he calls her that. It’s childish but she retaliates by pulling his hair roughly before leaning in to bite at his chin and mouth. He laughs and presses a bruising kiss to her lips, pulling her roughly down onto his dick, causing her to throw her head back.

Jack slowly works them into a rhythm, fucking herself down on Noah, hands gripping the headboard behind him, as he mouths leisurely at her shoulders and breasts. 

“Fuck,” she hears him whisper, distracting her from where she’s currently grinding down on his dick.  

When she looks down, she sees him with his face buried in her tits, hands struggling to hold all of them. 

“You like that, Hanny?” she asks as she watches him take one of her nipples into his mouth, sucking at it, before turning his face to do the same to the other. He hums, not responding to her question.

Instead, he lifts his legs to bend them at the knee behind her, changing the angle enough that Jack gasps. Noah’s able to get enough leverage to start fucking up into her, bottoming out, and matching her thrust for thrust. She feels herself starting to unravel.

“Oh god, Hanny, oh _fuck_.” 

Jack moves her hand down to rub at her clit, rough, quick circles that make her shudder. Her orgasm hits them both like a ton of bricks. She clenches around him, eyes squeezed shut, shaking through it before she slumps into him. 

Noah goes to pull out of her, hissing, when Jack all but clamps down on his dick.

“ _Jesus_ , Jack.” 

“Keep going. You can keep going.”  

Noah’s dazed and a little crazy around the eyes, but he nods at her all the same. 

It doesn’t take much, just a few thrusts up into her lax, shaking body and Noah’s coming, mouth pressed into her shoulder to mask whatever embarrassing noise she knows he’s making.

Jack scratches gently down his chest, pushing his hair back from his face as he’s catching his breath. She’s seen him in almost every scenario imaginable—sweaty from training, exhausted from a hard game, broken from a crushing loss, drunk off alcohol and the pure bliss of being young and free. But this… this is new. This she almost doesn’t know how to handle. 

Gently, he rolls them over, pulling out slowly, before getting up to dispose of the condom.

Jack’s laying flat on her back when he comes back into the room, legs sprawled. Noah stops in the doorway to just look, his gaze catching on where she knows she’s still wet, probably a bit puffy and pink. Jack’s pretty shameless about her body, but the way he’s looking at her makes her feel warm all over and a little self-conscious. She catches his eye and smirks. 

“See something you like, Hanifin?” 

“Yeah, your lazy ass is laying on my favorite pillow.”

Jack laughs at that. “Oh wow, Hanny. You sure know how to make a girl feel special.”

Noah approaches the bed slowly and Jack can’t help but track his every move. There’s a power in his body, one that’s hard earned from years of training and playing, hours of blood, sweat, and tears. He catches her looking and almost struts over to the bed. She rolls her eyes at him, but can’t hide how flushed she is. He settles down next to her, covering them both with his sheets. She squawks and laughs as he aggressively tucks her in. 

“Made you feel special twice tonight, Eichs,” Noah says as he turns out the light.

“That was so _corny_. Also, pretty sure I had a hand in at least one of those.”

“So we’ll call it even, but I got an assist.” 

“Sure, sure. One goal, one assist. Or, is it two goals, one assist?” Noah’s brow furrows. 

Jack holds up one hand, counting on her fingers. “Me.” _One_. “The girl in the bar.” _Two_. “Damn, Hanny. You got two girls off in one night. That’s _soooooo_ slutty.” She’s laughing again and he reaches for her, dragging her close to him, tickling her until she begs him to stop. 

—

When Jack wakes up the next morning, it’s relatively early. Light is starting to trickle through the blinds, but the room is still a little dark. She and Noah have turned towards each other during the night, with her tucked under his chin, his arms wrapped around her, and their legs twined together. 

Over the years they’ve known each other, they’ve shared beds a handful of times, but it’s never been like this. Up close, she can smell the cologne he wears, the shampoo he uses. It’s so intimate that it makes her heart clench. 

Slowly, she extracts herself from his hold, pulling back to settle onto the other pillow. In his sleep, his face is relaxed, eyelashes long where they fan out over his cheeks, lips parted and a little chapped. Objectively, Jack knows Noah’s attractive. She has _eyes_. She’s been around him long enough to hear him be chirped by teammates about how pretty he is, how all the girls must love him. Hell, she’s even chirped him herself about how good looking he is. But first thing in the morning? He’s… beautiful.

Jack gets out of bed slowly and dresses as quietly as she can, pulling on a pair of shorts and an old t-shirt she finds in his drawers. 

Jack could leave, could get an Uber and go back to her own apartment, but she doesn’t. This is Noah. She doesn’t need to run out on him before he wakes up. Sex wasn’t going to change the fact that he was her best friend.

She goes into the living room, settling on the couch, scrolling through Twitter and watching the sun come up over the city. 

Much later, Noah emerges from his room in nothing but a pair of sweats, slung low. He looks surprised to see Jack there for a moment, but the look fades just as fast as it came.

He takes in her ridiculously large bowl of Cap’n Crunch and The Golf Channel on the TV and rolls his eyes. 

“Hurry up, Hanny, you’re gonna miss tee off,” she says, milk dribbling down her chin. 

She hears him rummaging around in the kitchen for a few minutes before he comes back into the room with his own bowl of cereal. He sits down next to her and they settle in to watch the tournament.

“You look good,” Noah says a few minutes into the tournament. 

“What?” Jack asks around a mouthful of cereal. She knows she’s like, attractive or whatever, but looking good first thing in the morning? No way.

“In my BC shirt.” He nods at her chest.

Jack looks down at herself. Sure enough, the shirt she’d pulled out of Hanny’s drawer this morning had been one of his old BC hockey shirts. The logo is faded from years of washes, and is stretched out over her tits, but there it is. She groans and moves to take it off—she’ll eat her cereal topless, _fuck_ BC—but Noah stays her hands.

“Leave it, Eichs. It looks good on you.” _My clothes look good on you_ is what he means. Jack can’t help but rolls her eyes. Men are so annoying. 

She leaves it on. 

—

Being the only girl on her team was something Jack had gotten used to. She played with boys—sometimes older—in minors, at NTDP, and especially in college. She was used to the off-color jokes followed by cut-off laughter and sideways glances. She was used to eyes that cut immediately to the floor any time she walked through the room in a towel. She was used to the little closets they made into changing rooms for her, or worse, the partitions they put up in the room itself, an illusion of privacy that made her feel more isolated than the closets did.

So when she got to Buffalo and she wasn’t the only girl anymore, she didn’t know how to handle it. Suddenly, she wasn’t the only one in the small, league-mandated dressing room. It was a real miniature room—not something that had clearly once been a closet—with a separate shower room, too. 

She also didn’t have a solo room on the road anymore. That really sucked. 

Worst of all, the media wanted to sell the “gal pals” narrative, which Jack just could not allow.

She wasn’t opposed to having friends who were girls and she certainly wasn’t “one of the guys” but like, she didn’t _know_ Sam like that, either. They weren’t pals.

A few weeks and one stilted road trip into their first season together, Sam had shown up at Matt’s house and kidnapped Jack, forcing her into her coat and out into the cold.

“We’re getting lunch and pedicures, and _no_ you can’t get out of this,” Sam said once Jack had been forced into her car. 

Sam looked like she was waiting for Jack to protest the very notion of pedicures, but Jack wasn’t opposed. Hockey ruined your feet. She’d gladly take the pampering.

But not without grumbling.

“What, we gonna gossip and braid each other’s hair too?” Jack asked, feeling a little sour about the whole thing. She hated doing anything that wasn’t explicitly on her terms. 

“Only if you ask nicely,” Sam replied, equally biting. Jack was quiet after that. Lunch ended up being nice enough, small talking their way through their lives and hockey journeys, the normal shit that happened when any two women in the league ended up in each other’s vicinity. 

Jack assumed pedicures would be much of the same, but halfway through, she found herself falling into Sam’s trap, blabbing about all the players she knew, and listening to everything Sam had to offer in return. 

“It’s nice, you know,” Sam said while they were waiting for their nails to dry. 

“What’s nice?” Jack asked, wiggling her toes in the flimsy flip flops they’d put on her.

“Not being the only one.” Sam smiled at her, a little shy. Jack couldn’t help but smile back. 

By October, Sam and Jack had already decided that they’d be living together the following year, gal pals narrative be damned.

 

During the summer after their first season together, they’d carried on their tradition of getting pedicures together by facetiming every two weeks while they painted their own nails. They texted regularly, but this was their time to really catch up. 

Sam’s been talking about this girl she’s been seeing—Carly—who seems nice enough. She likes petite femme girls, the kinds of girls that other hockey players tend to gravitate towards. She’s bubbly and sweet and has the prettiest copper red hair. Sam’s sprung, to say the least. Jack’s not sure how it’ll last past the summer, but for now, she’s happy for Sam.

“Enough about me,” Sam says, shaking her nail polish before starting in on the second coat. “What about you?”

“What about me?” Jack asks, examining her fingernails. She rarely gets them done. She never has a chance to during the season since they’ll get fucked up during the game and during the summer, she’s just lazy and used to having them bare. Jack holds her nails out in front of her, contemplating.

“You’ve just been really quiet this whole time,” Sam replies.

“So? I can be quiet,” Jack says, deciding that after she finishes with her toenails, she’s going to paint her fingernails blood red. She wonders, briefly, if Noah might like that.

Sam starts laughing, holding her hand up to her face, brush still in hand. It’s going to drip on her mother’s carpet. “No you can’t. 

Jack makes a face. “Take that back! Yes, I can,” she insists.

Sam shakes her head. “You’re the most opinionated person I know. You’re rarely quiet.”

Jack supposes Sam’s right. She lets out a sigh, her hair fluffing up in front of her face from her breath. 

“I slept with Noah,” she says, finally. She tries to make it sound casual, off-handed. It doesn’t come out that way.

Sam does spill her nail polish at this point, and it’s not a small amount. She curses loudly, trying her best to clean it up. 

“I’m sorry, you fucking _what_?” Sam asks, once she’s got the situation under control.

“Yeah.”

“ _When_?” 

“Last weekend,” Jack says, shrugging. She’s seen Noah once since then and it was fine. It’s been _fine_. They’re still bros. No one is freaking out. Least of all her. Especially not her.

They’re _fine_.

“Okay… _and_? Details, Eichel!”

“Why do you want details? Doesn’t hetero sex gross you out?” 

Jack’s mostly joking but Sam rolls her eyes on screen anyway, pointing at her before saying, “Being a lesbian doesn’t make me any less nosy. Tell me everything. 

So Jack does. Sam is rapt the whole time, hanging on Jack’s every word, nail polish completely abandoned.

“Wait, so let me get this straight, Noah went down on _two_ girls in one night?”

Jack nods, sipping at her beer. “Yep. And once was in a _bar bathroom_.”

Sam sits back, leaning on her hands. “Holy shit,” she says on an exhale. “Noah Hanifin: NHL defenseman, honorary lesbian.” 

They both giggle about that for a few moments. Sam’s quiet after, contemplative. 

“You gonna do it again?”

“No idea,” Jack says, shrugging. And that’s the truth. She’d had fun, but they hadn’t talked about it after. She wouldn’t say no to a second (third?) round if the opportunity ever came up, but she’s also happy to just… leave things as they are. “Why complicate things, you know? If it happens, it happens.”

Sam gives her a funny look—the one she usually gives Jack when she thinks she knows something Jack doesn’t. It makes Jack’s stomach do nervous little flip flops. 

“Whatever you say, Jack.” She picks up her nail polish again, starting in on her top coat. 

They’re both quiet for a few minutes, happy enough to just sit in each other’s presence in a companionable silence—until Sam breaks it by asking:

“How big is his dick, anyway?”

Jack just laughs, shaking her head.

—

It’s not that she’s planning to not hook up with Noah again, she’s just... _not_ planning to not hook up with him again.

She’d been making her way through a Best of Julia Roberts marathon when Noah lets himself into her apartment. Jack has half a mind to tell him to fuck off, but he brought pizza with him, so she lets it slide. 

She’s looking _tragic_ in decade-old Bruins t-shirt she’s been wearing since yesterday and a pair of leggings that have seen better days. But Hanny’s seen her every way imaginable, so it’s not like she’s trying to impress him.

“Always with the chick flicks,” he mumbles as he gets comfortable on the couch next to her.

“I like rom-coms, so fuckin’ sue me,” she says, shoving her feet under his thighs.

“Didn’t say it was a bad thing, Jackie. No need to be touchy.” She kicks his thigh for that and he grabs her ankle, holding tight, as they both turn back to watch the movie.

Halfway through _My Best Friend’s Wedding_ , she glances over at him and catches him watching her. So she thinks, why not?

She blows him while Rupert Everett sings and she tries not to hum along. Noah doesn’t seem to mind at all; he comes while the restaurant joins in on the singing, hands fisted in Jack’s hair. Later, he lets her sit on his face while they watch _Notting Hill_. 

All in all, it’s a great afternoon.

—

Jack’s mom calls her at 9am on Tuesday to invite her out with her and Jack’s sister, Jessie. It’s less of an invitation and more of a required outing, and she's still half asleep, so she says yes and agrees to meet them that afternoon for lunch. Jessie is getting married later in the summer to some guy Jack’s only met a handful of times. He seems nice enough. Just a typical Boston guy, but her sister seems over the moon about him, so Jack tries her best to like him. 

Lunch is fine. It’s not that Jack doesn’t like her mother or her sister, it’s just that... she’s not like them. Her mom got married young, and now her older sister is doing the same thing. They’re both satisfied to follow the marriage-and-babies route and Jack… Jack wants nothing less. That’s not the life for her. She wants more.

They’re waiting for their entrées when Jessie turns to Jack and asks, “You got your dress, right?”  

Jack had. She’d purchased the pink monstrosity three months ago like her sister asked. She’s not like a lot of the other women in the NHL, like Sid or even Nicke, who would prefer to live in t-shirts and leggings. Jack actually _likes_ fashion and dressing up. She can be feminine, fuck you. It’s just… her sister’s idea of a good bridesmaids dress didn’t line up with Jack’s. 

“Yeah, it’s at my apartment, all ready to go.”

Her sister drums her fingers on the table, impatient. “And you got it fitted and altered?” 

“Yep,” Jack says, popping the P. Jessie actually sighs in relief, like she’d expect Jack to fuck this up somehow. “Look, I know a guy, okay? I got it altered right after it came in. It fits great. I’ll look as good as I can in it.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean, Jack?” Jessie’s pissed now, barely contained. 

“Girls, don’t start,” their mother says, barely looking up from where she’s playing a game on her phone.

“No, mom, I just want to know what Jack meant. I want to know what she meant by ‘as good as I can’.” Jessie’s starting to turn red, an unfortunate genetic fuck up that they’d both inherited from their mother.

“I just meant, I’d probably look better in something I actually picked out.” Jessie glares at her from across the table.

“Oh, right, because my taste isn’t good enough for _you_.”  

Jack throws her hands up, before slamming them down on the table, causing their drinks to slosh in their glasses. Their mother finally looks up. “Now, what does _that_ mean?”   

Jessie crosses her arms across her chest. “Nothing, _Joanna_ , just that it always has to be the Jack _fucking_ Eichel show. And maybe for once I wanted it to be about _me_. I picked out the dresses for everyone to make it easy. Everyone looks the same, and that’s the way I _wanted_ it.”

Jack raises her hands in a placating gesture. “Okay, Jessie. Okay. I get it. It’s _fine._ Sorry I said anything.”  

They eat in relative silence, only talking about neighborhood gossip or their mom’s latest foray into yoga.

After lunch Jack is fully planning on ducking out, maybe heading over to Noah’s. Unfortunately, her mom’s got this _look_ in her eye, so when she says, “Oh, Jack, it’s been so nice to see you. Don’t you think you could spare another hour or so?” she knows she’s fucked. 

They end up at a jewelers, looking for gifts for the bridesmaids. When Jack asks why she’s even there if it’s gifts for the bridesmaids, Jessie replies, “Obviously, I got you something else, asshole.” and that’s _that_.

Jessie has her heart set on some simple necklaces for her friends and Jack finds herself wandering off on her own. She could stand to pick up a new piece or two.

Jack’s looking at a particularly ugly bracelet when she asks Jessie, “By the way, is it cool if I bring someone to the wedding?”

She’d been thinking about this for a while—bringing someone to the wedding. It’d be full of family and family friends she’s known her whole life, but… she didn’t really know them anymore. Didn’t really have much to say to them. She wouldn’t mind bringing someone she actually _liked_ to talk to. And when Jack really thought about it, she thought Noah might agree to go. He’d never admit it, but he actually liked weddings.

Her sister says, “No!” at the exact moment her mom says, “ _Yes!_ ” 

Jack narrows her eyes. “Okay, getting conflicting answers here. Is it a yes or a no?”

Jessie frowns. “Jack you already RSVP’d and said you weren’t going to bring anyone. We’ve already finalized the guest list.”

Their mom puts a hand on Jessie’s before saying, “Yes, but I’m sure we could fit just one more person in—”

“ _Mom—_ ”

“Jessica, it’s not every day your sister wants to bring someone to your _wedding_.” Jack’s mom is narrowing her eyes at her sister, her mouth tight, brows raised. Jessie stares back for a moment before turning to Jack.

“ _Fine_ ,” she says, shoulders tight. “Who are you bringing anyway? It better not be that jackass you had hanging around at the Winter Classic.”

Jack scrunches her brows up. “Who?” 

Her mother closes her eyes. “Oh, for Christ’s sake, Joanna.” She pinches the bridge of her nose between her fingers.

She’d been seeing a couple of guys back then. Forgive her if she couldn’t remember who she’d given Winter Classic tickets to.

“ _Relax_ , mom. I’m just bringing Hanny.” Jessie and her mom exchange a look.

“Noah Hanifin?” her sister asks. 

“Uh, yeah. Like I said, just Hanny.”  

Her mom is smiling now. “Of course, Jack. We’ll make space for Noah. Oh my god, this is so exciting. How long have you two been—”

“Oh, mom, _no_ , it’s not—"

Her mom raises a hand, stopping her before she can start. “I get it, I get it. You’re being ‘casual’,” she says, using actual air quotes.

Jack frowns, disgusted. “No, ma, it’s not like that. We’re just friends.” 

“Okay, honey, I hear you. Noah Hanifin. How wonderful. Oh, he’ll look so _nice_ in the pictures. Do you think he’ll cut his hair for it? Just a little trim?” 

“ _Mom_.”

“Alright, alright. I won’t say anything else.” 

Her mom pats her on the face, looking very pleased. Jack knows she should clear this all up but her mom seems happy, so who is she to let her down? She’ll fix this eventually. Her sister gives her a look and mouths “ _Noah_?” raising her eyebrows suggestively. Jack flips her off. Jessie laughs under her breath, before smiling at Jack, looking at her like they have a secret—but Jack’s not entirely sure what it is.

Jessie ends up picking up necklaces for her bridesmaids and some cufflinks for their dad and her fiancé. Jack impulsively gets a new chain for herself—and if she picks up a pair of cufflinks for Hanny, well. She tells herself it’s nothing. 

—

During the summer, most players stay off the ice until the latter half of the off-season, spending most of the time working on strength training and relaxing. 

But Jack’s not most players. 

After being away from Buffalo for a month, she can’t take it anymore. She hits the ice in early morning or late night sessions, nothing more than an hour at a time, taking easy laps and chucking pucks at the net. It feels _good_ , feels right. So she keeps doing it.

By mid-June, Noah’s joined her, and it’s turned into playing three-on-three with local kids or guys they played with in juniors. Sometimes Whitey joins them, or some of the guys Jack knew in the Junior Bruins. Hanny recruits Sebby guys, including the younger siblings of some of the guys he knows.

Most of the time Jack and Noah cool their heels on the ice, letting the other players dominate. But one game in particular, they have a fourteen-year-old from St. Sebastian’s in net. The kid _absolutely_ stands on his head for them—so they return the favor by busting ass and getting a win for him. It’s the least they can do.   

After, there’s a gaggle of kids crowded around one end of the ice. Most just want to say ‘hi’ and maybe get a picture or autograph. Among them, though, are two shy, young girls—about eleven and thirteen. Both are kitted out with hockey gear and starting at Jack from across the ice. 

She catches Noah’s attention, nodding over at them. He nods back, understanding, watching her as she skates away.

Jack introduces herself to the girls—Hannah and Mikayla—both of whom play hockey. Hannah is, indeed, thirteen, and is a center. 

“Like you,” she says with a smile.  

Jack smiles back. She can’t help it. She’s weak for kids—but especially for young girls.

Mikayla, as it turns out, is also thirteen, but very small for her age. She wants to be a winger. 

“Like Mitch Marner,” she says, shyly. 

“Mitch, huh?” Jack asks. “She’s pretty cool. I bet if we called her right now, she’d love to say ‘hi’. Would you like that?” 

Mikayla looks shocked at first, eyes widening comically. Jack thinks she might say ‘no’, but then she’s nodding her head as fast as she can, practically vibrating in her skates.

Jack texts Mitch first because she’s nice like that. As suspected, Mitch is down. They spend ten minutes facetiming with the two girls, before the mother of one of the girls comes over, and tells them that it’s time to go. 

She signs sticks for both of them, posing for pictures, and giving words of advice, before they skate off. Jack can’t wipe the smile off her face.

“You’ve got a fan club,” Noah says when he skates over to her.

Jack raises her eyebrows at him. “ _We’ve_ got a fan club,” she says, gesturing at the remaining kids hanging around.

“Yeah,” he replies, “but those kids just want a selfie. These girls? You mean something to them.”

When she looks at him, his gaze is soft, warm. It makes her feel fuzzy all over.

“I’m not the only woman in the league,” she says, confused. 

“Yeah, no, I know that. But you’re not Sid or Connor.”

Jack glares at him. “Gee, thanks.” 

Noah rolls his eyes. “What I mean is, you’re approachable—”

“Approachable?” Jack can’t help the laugh she lets out. No one has _ever_ called her approachable.

“Not like _that_ ,” he says, “you’re like…” Noah snaps his fingers. “You’re like Kuznetsova.”

“What?” Jack asks. She’s never heard that one before.

“Yeah!” he’s nodding now, enthusiastic, “you’re like Kuzy. You’re not following the script, Jackie. You’re doing things your own way. And that’s _sick_. These girls? They look up to you for that.”  

Jack hadn’t really thought about it like that before. Sure, she wanted to do things her own way, always had. But she never thought that anyone would admire her _because_ of it. 

“Relatable,” she says. What she has, how she does things, and goes about her business. It seems _relatable_ to those girls.

Noah nods. “Yeah, exactly. You’re not just some superstar. You’re just Jack.”

She hums. She likes that. Being able to just be herself. Not Jack Eichel, Superstar Hockey Player. Sure, that’s who she _can_ be. But here, on the ice in Tewksbury, Massachusetts, she’s just Jack.

They spend a little more time on the ice, working with the smaller kids, showing them how to stop or do some basic stick handling. Jack loves this, loves teaching the next generation how to love the ice the way she does.

She looks over at Noah and notices him working with two kids, both easily under the age of seven. They’re so _small_ compared to him, and something about it makes her heart feel full. The younger of the two, a boy, falls down hard. He looks on the verge of tears when Noah scoops him up, skating around with him in little circles. He cheers up instantly, smiling and laughing. 

Jack forces herself to turn back to the kids she’s working with, refusing to watch Noah and… all of that any longer.

“You’re really good with kids.” Noah says as they skate over to the gate and step off the ice. “You ever thought about it?”

“What, having them?” she asks. 

Noah nods. They sit down on the benches and begin taking their gear off.

Jack shrugs. “I guess. I mean, I assume I’ll do it someday. I’m just not sure _when_ , you know?”

She puts the blade guards back on her skates, unlacing them, before slipping back into her sneakers.  

“It’ll be hard for me,” she says. “Having kids. I’d have to have a really understanding partner. I’ll be gone all the time and it’ll just be him and the kids. It’s a lot to ask.” 

She smiles at Noah, but she knows it doesn’t meet her eyes. 

“What about you?” she asks.

“Me?” he asks, shrugging. “If I’m the good Catholic, Boston boy I was raised to be, I’ll have at least three.”

Jack laughs at that. She can see it now: Hanny, older, maybe with his beard, surrounded by three beautiful children, all in matching skates. Her heart clenches in her chest. 

“Sounds nice, Hanny,” she says, smiling. “Gotta lock down a girl first, though.”

“Working on it,” he says, smiling back.

Her heart races—and it’s not from the skating.

—

Jack’s not going to watch the draft. That’s what she tells herself. The Sabres got first overall, and they’d be idiots to choose anyone other than Dahlin. 

But what if, right? So she turns it on just in time to see the Sabres pick her, to see the blue and gold slip over Rasmus’s white blonde hair. Jack thinks she looks happy, relieved, but it’s hard to tell under the shadow of the Sabres hat she’s wearing.  

Her phone rings and she picks it up without looking to see who’s calling.

“Holy shit, right?” Sam asks, sounding giddy. 

“Yeah,” Jack says on an exhale. _Yeah_. They fucking got Dahlin. All the failure, all the heartache, all the _frustration—_ it wasn’t for nothing. They _got_ her. 

“This is huge, man. Think about it.” Jack was thinking about it. Her head was buzzing, fizzing, greying out, from how hard she was thinking about it. “We’re getting up there. I mean, it’s not Yotes or Canucks numbers, but we’ll have the same number of girls as the Oilers and the Leafs.” 

Shit. Sam was right. It made her heart leap in her chest. The Sabres had taken a chance with her and with Sam, and even though it hadn’t paid off just yet, they didn’t see it as the source of their failure. They didn’t see _them_ as the source. Low bar and all, but it made Jack feel settled.  

Jack watched as the Sens fumbled their pick, TV low, as Sam chattered on the other end of the phone. She’d have to call Rasmus soon and welcome her to the team. There hadn’t been a woman on the team to greet her when she was drafted. Sure, Sam was playing for the Americans and had called her a few days later, but this was different. The first person expected to greet Rasmus was Jack. She was the face of the team now, and Rasmus was hers. 

“I gotta go, Sam,” Jack says a few minutes later.

“Tell her I said ‘hi’,” Sam says. 

“Tell her your fucking self,” is what Jack says as she hangs up. Sam sends her a middle finger emoji instantly. 

—

The thing is… Noah’s kind of a nerd. Actually, Noah is a _huge_ nerd. He loves science fiction and fantasy and reads comic books. And Jack could chirp him about it, but he sits through all of her rom-com marathons with zero complaints. So when he texts Jack and asks her if she’d be up to going to see _Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom_ with him and his younger siblings, she agrees.

They end up at a theater out in the suburbs, at a showing early enough that the crowds are thin, and the likelihood of getting recognized is slim. Jack’s met Noah’s siblings before, of course, but it’s nice to see this side of him. He lets them get whatever they want, not complaining when Cole wants a large popcorn, soda, and candy or when Lily wants pretzel bites and ice cream. 

There’s hardly anyone in the theater when they sit down, so they take seats in the middle and get settled in well before the movie starts. Jack’s sitting to Noah’s left, with Lily sandwiched between him and Cole. And while Noah claimed he didn’t want any snacks, he steals popcorn from Jack every few minutes.

“Keep your hands to yourself, Hanny,” Jack says, pulling her popcorn closer to her chest. 

“I paid for it, Eichs,” he says, pushing his hands past hers to grab another handful. 

She hums. “Don’t worry, bro, I’ll pay you back later.” She takes a sip of her drink, smiling at him with the straw between her teeth.

Noah chokes on his popcorn. “Literally sitting next to my little sister right now.”

Jack raises her eyebrows at him. “Not my problem, Hanny.”

 

They’re ten minutes into the movie when Noah starts pawing at his pocket. Jack assumes it’s nothing, that he’ll ignore it, until she sees his brows furrow. 

“Who is it?” she whispers.

“It’s, uh. It’s my agent,” he whispers back. His shoulders are tense and up around his ears. Her heart drops. _Draft day_ , she thinks.

“Go. I’ll watch the kids.” He meets her eye after another moment—he looks… he looks nervous. But he nods, makes his way past her, and down the stairs. 

When he doesn’t come back after fifteen minutes, she gets up and takes his spot next to Lily. She may be a preteen now, but jump scares can be a _bitch_ no matter your age. 

 

Noah doesn’t come back at all. After the credits roll, she helps Cole and Lily collect their trash, before making their way out into the lobby. He’s on a bench waiting for them, staring down at his phone. Her own phone has been buzzing in her pocket for the last hour or so. She knows what to expect.

“Where?” she asks him once he’s within reach. 

“Calgary,” he says, looking up at her. He looks overwhelmed. There’s nothing she could say that could make whatever he’s feeling any easier. So she doesn’t say anything. She just moves to stand in front of him, drawing him close, hugging his head to her abdomen. He exhales deeply into her shirt before wrapping his arms around her. They stay like that for a few minutes, wrapped up in each other, before pulling apart. He looks distant, so she takes his keys from him and drives them back to his parents’ house.

“Do they know?” she asks once they’re on the road. He nods. 

“Called them when I got off the phone with my agent.” Behind them, Lily and Cole are quiet. They understand what’s happening, that Noah’s been traded to Calgary for Dougie _fucking_ Hamilton, but they don’t really get it. Jack doesn’t either, if she’s honest. She’s never been traded and the likelihood of her ever being traded is slim. Noah’s on his own here. As much as she can try and take his mind off of it or comfort him, he’s got to navigate this on his own.

“Have you texted Chucky yet? Or Johnny?” He shakes his head. “It’ll be good to have them there with you. Maybe you could live with one of them until you’re settled?” He nods.

“Maybe,” he says, staring out the passenger seat window. Impulsively, she reaches across the center console and grabs his hand. Noah immediately threads their fingers together and holds on tight. He doesn’t let go until they pull into the driveway of his parents’ home.

She’s fully expecting to follow him inside, to maybe hang around with his family for a little while, or have dinner, but when she parks his car, he puts a hand on her wrist and says: “Wait here, I’ll be right back.”

So she does. She watches as Noah shuttles his siblings inside the house and waits for about ten minutes, messing around on her phone, before he comes back out. His mom follows him out to the car with a plate of something. She hands the plate off to Noah, who carefully puts it in the backseat of his car. His mom comes around to the driver’s side, where Jack has the window down and leans in close.

“You’ll take care of him?” she asks in a low voice. Noah continues to fuck around in the backseat, ignoring both of them.

Jack isn’t 100% sure what to do with that, but nods. “Of course.”

Noah’s mom nods. “Good. I know he’s got friends there, but… we worry. It’s a big change and it’ll be so far. I don’t—” she sighs. “I’m not sure he should be alone tonight.” She looks Jack in the eye, imploring her to understand.

“No worries, Mrs. Hanifin. I got him.” She smiles at Jack, squeezes her shoulder through the open window, before walking back around the car to hug Noah, tucking herself into her son’s chest before patting his cheek and going inside. It isn’t until she’s back in the house that Noah slumps into the passenger seat.  

“Let’s go home, Hanny.” Noah glances over at her. He looks tired. He nods and looks back out the window.

The drive isn’t long from Norwood back to the place Noah’s renting in the North End. Jack keeps the music up and the windows down up until they get into the city. It’s a really nice day, all things considered. Ideally the kind she’d want to spend on a rooftop bar, eating oysters and drinking beers. But that’s not how tonight’s going.

—

Noah goes to take a shower as soon as they get to his apartment. He doesn’t need one, Jack knows that, but she knows that he needs to be alone for a little while. Needs to process. While he’s gone, she orders them pizza and starts flipping through Netflix to see what they can put on. She’s mulling over watching _Mighty Ducks_ for the thousandth time or going with a different sports movie entirely, like _Remember the Titans_ , when Noah finally emerges. His hair is wet and curling around the ends; he looks impossibly small in the worn out Bruins shirt and oversized sweats he’s wearing. Jack takes one look at him and opens her arms. If Noah seems surprised, he doesn’t let on, just flops down on the couch next to her, wrapping himself around her the best he can. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” she asks. He shakes his head. “Okay, we don’t have to right now, but we probably should at some point.” He exhales and burrows his head deeper into her shoulder. He’s quiet for a while, content to let Jack stroke his hair. 

Their pizza comes a little while after that. They eat quietly, watching _Miracle_ without really watching it. After, Jack pushes Noah towards the bedroom, cleaning up a little, before following him. He hadn’t asked her to stay—she knows better than to leave.

Noah’s got his back to the door, a silent request. Jack strips down quickly, grabbing a shirt from Noah’s drawer, before climbing into the bed. She runs her hand down his back slowly before wrapping herself around him. Noah relaxes, sighing deeply before leaning back into her. She tucks her head into his shoulder, pressing a kiss to it. 

“I knew it was coming,” he whispers, "or, I knew it was a possibility. My agent told me that it was a possibility.” 

_It’s always a possibility_ , Jack thinks. 

“It was different this time. I don’t know. My agent called me a few days ago. Told me to keep my phone on me during the draft. I didn’t expect—” he takes a breath, exhales, “I don’t know what I expected.”

Jack wraps her arms around Noah tighter. He squeezes her wrist. “I know I’m not supposed to take it personally. That it’s all about a change in management and coaching and—whatever. Everyone says it’s not personal.”

“But… it feels personal?” He sighs.

“I don’t know, Jack. I think… I think it would suck less if _I_ chose to leave. But I didn’t get to choose.” He doesn’t say anything for a few minutes, just breathes. She runs her hands up and down his chest, soothing him as much as she can. “I think it’ll be good, though. I texted Chucky. He said I could stay with him for a while. Until I figure shit out.” 

“That could be good. NTDP boys together again,” she says. He hums. He’s quiet for a while, so long that she thinks he’s probably asleep. 

“Hey Jack?” he whispers. 

“Yeah?” she whispers back. 

“Thanks for staying.”

“Of course, Hanny. You know I’d do anything for you.” Noah makes a soft sound at that, clutching her hand in his. He turns his head to look at her, meeting her eyes for a brief, intense moment, before kissing her. She kisses back, cupping his jaw and thumbing at the hinge. He rolls over onto his other side, moving on top of Jack easily, pressing her into the mattress. She kisses him softly, slowly, slipping her tongue into his mouth and sucking on his bottom lip. His hips stutter against hers and he moans. 

“Fuck, Jack. Can we—”

“Yeah, yes, anything,” she says. They work quickly to get undressed, pulling the borrowed shirt over her head and yanking his shorts off. She chucks her underwear across the room while he gets a condom on. Jack goes to get up on her knees, but Noah stops her.

“Actually, can we do it like this?” And… _oh_. Jack didn’t normally let guys get her on her back. It’s different if they were going down on her, but… if she was totally honest, she sometimes felt a little vulnerable letting guys fuck her like this. If it was just a hook-up, and it usually was, she was on top, maybe on all fours, but never on her back. _It’s different with Noah_ , a small part of her thinks. It’s a thought that hits her like a bolt of lightning. She pushes down on it, ignoring it for now—forever if she can help it. 

Jack settles back into the pillows with Noah following her down a moment later. It’s easy to kiss him again, to pull him into the cradle of her hips. His mouth is open and inviting, his tongue hot against hers. She could lose herself in this so easily. Too easily. Jack feels Noah’s hand on her knee, then her inner thigh, trailing in to touch her where she knows she’s already wet. He strokes over her a few times, circling her clit, before taking hold of himself, and pressing into her slowly. Almost without her permission, her knees draw up close to his sides, her feet crossing at his lower back, pushing him even closer to her. He keeps his thrusts slow and long as he kisses up her throat. It’s driving her insane.

“God, Hanny, you feel so fucking _good_ ,” she says, dragging her nails down his back, spurring him on. He’s clutching her hip with one big hand, holding her hand on the bed with his other. His thrusts are getting more erratic and she can feel him shaking from holding himself back. She pulls him in, kissing him roughly before saying, “Yeah, come on. Give it to me, Noah.”

Noah groans like he’s taken a rough hit into the boards. He pulls back before taking both of her hips in his hands, driving into her. It only takes a couple of thrusts before he’s coming, head dropping forward. Jack reaches down, thumbing at her clit a few times before she’s coming too, clenching around him. He moans, hands bruisingly tight where they’re gripping her hips. 

Slumping forward, he presses his forehead to her sternum. And Jack can’t help herself. She reaches out and runs her fingers through his hair, trying to soothe him in any way she can. Slowly, he pulls out of her before flopping down next to her. He looks exhausted. Jack lets him stay like that and takes care of the condom herself. 

From the doorway of the bathroom, Jack can see Noah’s rolled back onto his side, pulling the blankets up around himself. It’s easy for Jack to slip in behind him and let Noah pull her arm tightly around him. He falls asleep like that a few moments later. 

Jack finds it hard to sleep after that, lying awake for a long time, holding his hand. 

—

It’s late when Jack finally wakes up and she’s more than a bit delirious, which is why at first, she’s sure she’s imagining Noah running his hand over her hair.

“Were you watching me sleep, weirdo?” she asks around a yawn. He doesn’t respond, just kisses her. Jack wraps her hands around the base of his neck, thumbing at the soft skin. 

“Do you want cookies?” he asks when he pulls away.

“Cookies?” Jack asks, quirking her eyebrow. He nods before getting out of bed. She watches him as he walks, naked, out of the room. He comes back a few minutes later holding the plate his mom had given him the night before. 

“My mom bakes when she’s upset,” he says, passing the plate to Jack where she’s now sitting up in bed, sheets tucked around her. Noah gets back under the covers, sliding in close to sit with his back against the headboard with her. 

Jack nods, taking a cookie for herself. They sit like that for most of the morning, eating cookies and watching anything but ESPN.

—

“Do you wanna go to my sister’s wedding with me?” Jack asks, hours later when they’re eating cold pizza in Noah’s kitchen. 

Noah smiles, this soft, crooked thing, before saying, “Sure, Jackie. Why not?”

She punches him in the shoulder and he smiles harder.

—

It’s been weeks and Jack isn’t really sure what she and Noah are doing. They’re at lunch when she finally brings it up—well, she doesn’t so much as bring it up as stumble into it. Semantics. 

Jack had wanted a chicken parm sandwich and Noah seems incapable of saying no to Jack, so they ended up at this hole in the wall place not far from where Noah’s crashing for the summer. She’s about halfway through her sandwich when she hits him with it.

“Pasta’s back.” 

Noah quirks his eyebrow. _Oh?_

“Saw it on Instagram. Asshole didn’t even call me.” 

“Didn’t realize you were a thing,” Noah says, frowning into his meatballs.

“We’re not a _thing_ , but like, you know.” She’s raising her eyebrows suggestively. Jack’s mentioned it before, but it’s been a while, so maybe he’s forgotten. She and David had hooked up last summer at Worlds and then again during the season. He’s not like, a regular hook up of hers, but he’s a blast and maybe she’d counted on him being a sure thing this summer. There were a lot of boys in Boston—unfortunately she’d already fucked too many of them and wasn’t looking for a repeat performance. 

“So, what? You gonna hook up with him?” Noah asks the table more than he asks Jack. 

“Maybe. Haven’t decided yet.” She licks marinara off her fingers. Noah tracks the motion. “Like I said, he’s back and hasn’t texted me.” 

Noah makes a noise she interprets as understanding, but really can’t be sure one way or another. He wipes his mouth with a napkin before saying, “Eichs, if you’re worried about getting laid this summer, you shouldn’t be. You know I’ll take care of you.” 

And Jack—well, she hadn’t expected that. Sure, they’d hooked up a few times already, but that didn’t mean anything. Noah was offering… a lot. He was offering her steady sex all summer long. Who was she to look a gift horse in the mouth? She pushed back on the alarm blaring somewhere deep in the recesses of her mind. She didn’t have time to listen to that now.

Jack kicks at Noah under the table, but she can feel the tips of her ears flush pink all the same.

“Gee, Hanny,” she says in a faux-high voice. “You sure know how to treat a lady.”

“Only the best for you, doll,” he says in the thickest Boston accent he can muster, winking at her just to see her roll her eyes.

—

Noah wants to buy a new suit for Jessie’s wedding, and Jack actually likes shopping so she agrees to meet him to find the right one. It’s a nice day in Boston, relatively speaking. They’re close enough to the water that there’s a breeze coming down the street, but it’s still a little too humid for Jack’s liking. Her hair is starting to get really big and she knows it’ll end up in a bun before much longer.  

Noah’s running late, per usual, so Jack had stopped to get ice cream while she waited. When Noah finds her, she’s sitting at a bench outside the tailor she knows Noah likes.  

“Where the fuck did you get ice cream, Eichs?” He’s got sunglasses on, but she knows he’s watching her as she licks her spoon.

“FoMu. My nutritionist wants me to cut back on dairy and they make theirs with coconut milk.” 

Noah makes a face at that. “Non-dairy ice cream? Jesus, who even are you?”

“It’s not pretentious if it’s for my health, Hanny.” She pinches him when she gets up to throw her cup away. 

“Whatever you say, Jackie.” She levels a glare at him. He knows she hates it when he calls her that, but he does it anyway to fuck with her. God, she hates him sometimes.

“Let’s get you a suit, asshole.” He smiles at her and holds out his elbow for her to take. She walks past him towards the door. 

Inside, Jack follows Noah around as he looks at different fabrics and talks to the tailor about cuts and fits. She gets distracted by a particular blue wool that she thinks would look nice on her. She makes a mental note to come back later to get fitted. 

Sam texts her shortly after Noah heads off to the dressing room to get measured.

**reino 🦏**  
_plans for the holiday?_

Normally Jack would try and be out on the water with her friends for the Fourth, but this year, she’s hoping to just chill. She’d turned down invitations for beach parties and various trips in favor of just hanging out by the pool with her family. She’s actually really looking forward to it.

**jack**  
_just hanging at my parents'_

**reino 🦏**  
_no noah?_  

**jack**  
_he’s headed to the cape with his fam_  

**reino 🦏**  
_and you weren’t invited?_

Jack frowns. When Noah mentioned it, it hadn’t _seemed_ like an invitation, but now she was second guessing herself. Had he wanted her to go?  

**jack**  
_no? why would i be?_

**reino 🦏**  
_you’re so stupid_  

Before Jack can process that, or reply, Sam texts back.

_so what are you up to?_

**jack**  
_with Hanny rn  
helping him pick out a suit_

**reino 🦏**  
_for the season?_

**jack**  
_no for jessie’s wedding_  

Jack’s barely sent her reply when her phone starts to ring. A picture of Sam dressed as a Power Ranger flashes on Jack’s screen. She sighs before answering.

“Please tell me you’re not that stupid,” is what Sam says as soon as Jack’s got the phone up to her ear.

“Hello to you too,” Jack says instead of answering Sam.

“You’re taking Noah to your sister’s wedding?”

“Yes?”

“As your date?”

“ _Yes_.”

“Jesus christ, Eichs,” Sam sighs down the line. “You’re a smart girl, and I know you’re stupid about these kinds of things, but _my god_.”  

Jack’s reeling. “What in the _hell_ are you talking about Reino?”

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing? With Hanifin?” 

“We’re just… hooking up,” Jack says, but she sounds unsure, even to herself.

“Right,” she sighs, again, “just don’t come crying to me when this gets fucked up.”

“Wow, Sam. Nice vote of confidence.” Jack’s irritated now. Sam usually minds her own business when it comes to Jack’s relationships, and has never judged her before. The fact that she is _now_ kind of hurts.

“I’m just saying, Jack, you don’t have a good track record. I know Noah is one of your best friends,” Sam pauses. For a moment, all Jack can hear is her breathing. “I just think you’re being willfully ignorant about this whole thing.”

“Nothing willful about it, Sam. Literally, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Jack says. She’s leaning against a rack of ties for balance, now, feeling prickly and hot all over. 

“Okay, Jack, whatever you say,” is all Sam says, before hanging up. Jack’s fingers are white from how hard she’s holding her phone. She takes a few steadying breaths before walking over to the dressing rooms. 

She waits until the attendant walks out of the dressing room before she barges in. Noah’s only wearing boxer briefs and she has to pause her anger for a minute to appreciate the view in front of her. _God_ she loves hockey.  

Noah takes one look at her and frowns. “You good, Eichs?” he asks, taking a step towards her. She shakes her head, and he doesn’t hesitate before wrapping her up in a hug.

“Sam and I kind of had a fight,” she mumbles into his chest. 

“About what?”

Jack shakes her head again. “It doesn’t matter. We’ll get over it in a few days.”

Noah hums, pulling back to push her hair off her face. His gaze is intense, and for a moment, she thinks he might kiss her. She’d let him. Jack would let him do just about anything right now. 

The tailor comes back and they pull apart. Hanny smiles at her over the tailor’s head and Jack smiles back.

Fuck what Sam had said. No matter happens, Jack knows she and Noah will be just fine.

—

It hasn’t stopped raining all damn week. So when Noah texts her about coming over, Jack says yes immediately. She’s starting to go a little stir crazy. She should be out golfing, or swimming, or at the beach, or something that isn’t sitting on her couch in the same sweats and worn out USNTDP t-shirt she’s had on for the past three days. 

Despite the humidity, Noah looks stupid good when he lets himself in. Asshole. She’s half-way through her rewatch of _North & South_, junk food wrappers and takeout boxes strewn around her. 

“You’re sulking,” is the first thing Noah says after slumping down beside her, eating a Twizzler he’s produced from god knows where. 

“I’m not,” she says, frowning. 

“You are,” he says, adding, “you’re blowing your diet plan and you’re re-watching this depressing show again. You watched this when you hurt your ankle the first time. Twice.” 

“I fucking hate that you know that,” Jack says around a mouth of popcorn. Hanny shrugs while smirking. It’s a good look on him. She _hates_ it. “I’m just tired of all this rain. I’m fucking _bored_.”

“I could fix that,” he says, waggling his eyebrows at her a few times.

She laughs. “Maybe later.” 

Noah settles in on the couch with her, leaning his head on her shoulder. Jack thinks he might be falling asleep when he says, “Why are you actually upset?”

Jack sighs, sagging further into the cushions of the couch. She could lie. It would be so easy to lie and say that she’s nervous about the season, about her ankle, about how the Patriots are going to play. Anything. 

But she knows Noah would see right through it.

“He’s been back in Boston for two weeks now and he hasn’t called me.”

“Maybe he’s busy,” Noah says, sound muffled by the way he has his face pressed into her arm now. 

“I saw a video of him sliding down a cushion into a hot tub on a boat that was parked in the harbor. He’s not busy.” 

Noah grunts in response. 

“You don’t like him.” 

Noah grunts again. “That’s not true. We’ve hung out a few times.” Jack remembers. She hadn’t been there, but she’d seen the pictures. Spikeball, sand, and miles and miles of tanned, strong bodies. She briefly entertained the idea of having both of them at once. Would Noah be down for that? Pasta definitely would.

“Besides,” Noah says, breaking Jack’s train of thought, “what’s not to like? Funny looking blondes should stick together.” 

Jack scoffs and pinches his arm. “Who the fuck you calling funny looking?”

He’s smiling when she gets him pulled into a headlock, using all of her hockey strength to wrestle him to the floor. They tussle a bit, before he gets her on her back, pinned between the couch and the coffee table. She’s laughing at him, relaxed and carefree. His eyes are fucking _sparkling_ when she looks up at him, and god she feels so _corny_. If only Sam or Mitch or Charlie could see her now, corny over Noah fucking Hanifin.

She uses Noah’s lapse in focus to buck him off of her, flipping them. He bangs his elbow into the leg of the coffee table in the process, and grumbles about it, but she doesn’t care. Her hair hangs over them both now. It’s summer-long and a bit wild. All grown out from her laziness and frizzy with the humidity. She thinks she probably looks stupid, but it feels intimate like this, with her kneeling over him, thick thighs pressing into his ribs, her hair curtaining them off from the outside world.  

“Thought I lost you for a second there, Hanny,” she whispers into the space between them. 

“Could never lose me, Eichs,” he whispers back, alarmingly too close to the truth. It makes her heart pound in her chest. She pants out a laugh, before backing up off of him, and helping him stand. 

“What you need, Eichs, is to get out of the house.” 

_Get your mind off Pasta_ is implied.

“Got something in mind?” she asks as she starts knotting her hair into the messiest bun of all time.

“Some of the NTDP guys are coming into town. Wanna take them out? We can ask Charlie too.”

And... there’s something there that Jack likes. The idea of taking her boys out to Sox games, to clubs, to the beach. She’s nodding before she knows it.

“Sounds like a plan, Hanny.” 

He’s smiling at her, soft and fond, and she can’t help but lean over and kiss that look off his stupid face. 

—

Noah spends the night on Thursday with her, before heading out Friday morning to pick his family up in Norwood so they can head out to the Cape for the Fourth. He fucks her on the couch that evening while they watch _Wimbledon_ , gets down on his knees for her in the shower before bed, and fucks her again in the morning when he wakes her up to say goodbye.

“Jesus, Hanny,” she pants, “what’s gotten into you?” He’s kissing over her shoulder and down her arm, hands tight on her hips as he fucks into her. 

“Not gonna see you again until next weekend,” he says, kissing her softly.

“Aww, _babe_ ,” she teases when she pulls away, “are you gonna miss me?”

Noah’s cheeks turn red and he flushes down his chest. Instead of answering, he pulls out of her, flips her onto her belly, and thrusts back into her, forcing all chirps from her mind.

After, she’s so sleepy and syrupy. It’s hard to keep her eyes open, but she feels him drop kisses down her back, before pressing one to her mouth.

She falls back asleep before Noah's even gotten out of bed to get dressed. 

—

That afternoon, she packs a bag and heads to her parents' house for the holiday, planning to spend the weekend leading up to it with them. It’s supposed to be just her, a few books, and her parents' pool. 

In other words, bliss.

What she gets, instead, is her mother up her ass from the moment she walks through the door.

“What? No Noah?” she asks.

“Jeez, ma, I haven’t even put my bags down yet.”

Her mother puts her hands up in a placating gesture. “Sorry I asked. I just thought, maybe, it’d be nice for you to bring him up to spend some time with the family before the wedding. That’s all.” She’s turned back to the stove now, focused on what she’s making for dinner. 

“I told you, mom, we’re not dating. We’re just friends.” 

Her mom laughs. “Friends?” She turns back to look at Jack, quirking her eyebrow. “Then what’s that?” she asks, poking the side of Jack’s neck.

Jack claps her hand over her neck immediately, walking back into the mudroom to look at the mirror by the door. 

High enough on her neck that it peeks out from under the neckline of her shirt, is a hickey. A relatively small hickey, but it’s there. She can’t remember Noah making it last night, but there’s a good chance he put it on her this morning. She was too sleepy to realize what he was doing.  

“Motherfucker,” Jack whispers. She can hear her mother laughing in the kitchen. 

She’s going to kill him.

 

Jack avoids her family for the rest of the afternoon, slinking off to her childhood bedroom to hide out. When she comes down for dinner, she’s wearing a Sabres hoodie. 

“If you’re cold, Joanna, we can turn the air down,” her mother says, giving her a look from across the table.

Jack glares back, pushing her food around her plate. “I’m fine, mom, thanks.”

 

After dinner, she and her dad do the dishes while her mom sips wine at the table.

“Jessie’s coming up for the Fourth too,” she says.

“Yeah, I know, you already told me. Like, three times,” Jack mumbles.

“She’s bringing her _fiancé_ with her.”

“Yeah? Good for her.” Jack passes a plate to her father. He smiles at her while he dries it.

“You excited for the season, Jackie?” Her dad asks.

She nods. “Yeah, really excited,” she says, rinsing another plate, “I like our chances. We’ve got some good pieces coming in.”

“Good,” he says. They continue like that for a while—washing, rinsing, drying—all in silence.

When they’re done, he nudges her shoulder with his. They’re the same height now, have been for a while. It’s something that always hits Jack at the oddest times. Growing up, her dad had always been larger than life in her eyes; this tall, imposing figure. And now they were the same size. 

She wasn’t sure how she felt about it. Getting older was hard to deal with most of the time, but watching her parents get older nearly suffocates her with feelings of guilt and nostalgia and aching for time she can never get back. 

“We’re proud of you, you know that?” he asks her when he leans back against the sink. 

She crosses her arms across her chest.

“ _I’m_ proud of you,” he says, “Best kid I could’ve asked for.”

“Don’t let Jessie hear you saying that,” she says, smiling. 

He swats his towel at her. “Jessie has your mother,” he says, “but you? It’s always been you and me, kiddo.”

She smiles before frowning. “Ever think it would’ve been easier if you’d just had a son instead?”

He nods, “Sure. But that’s not what I got.” He folds his towel, putting it on the counter next to the sink, before coming to stand next to Jack. “I got two beautiful, strong, talented daughters. Hardheaded and mean as snakes. Couldn’t have dreamed up anything better.”

Jack’s eyes burn with tears she won’t shed. She pushes into his space, hugging him tight. He hugs her back just as hard.

“Does it bother you that I…” she starts to ask, but doesn’t. _Does it bother you that I sleep around_? she wants to ask. _Does it bother you that I have a reputation? Does it bother you that I might never live up to my potential?_  

“No, Jackie,” he says, “nothing you could ever do would bother me.”  

She clings to him tighter. “You’re my hero, Jackie girl,” he says, pressing a kiss to her head, “you’re gonna make all your dreams come true.”

He squeezes her one last time before letting her go. “Gotta take the dog out for a walk,” he says, kissing her forehead as he walks past. He disappears down the hall, leaving Jack with nothing but her thoughts. 

—

The next morning, she wakes early to a text from Noah. She thumbs her phone open and finds a picture of a sunrise. Typical. 

Downstairs, no one is awake yet. Jack eats some fruit out of the package and takes a long pull of orange juice straight from the bottle, just to piss her mom off. 

Jack thinks about going for a run, but ends up slipping into her bathing suit instead. She takes a selfie in the old, full-length mirror on the back of her bedroom door. She sends it to Sam, along with the arm emoji. And before she can overthink it, she sends it to Hanny too. He sends the eye emoji back almost immediately. Jack leaves her phone in her room and goes down to the pool. 

She spends an hour alternating between taking laps in the pool and floating around. Riley watches from the patio, enjoying the early morning sun. 

That’s how her dad finds her, a couple hours later, sitting in a chair under an umbrella.

“You’re gonna fuckin’ burn if you sit out here all day, Jackie girl.” He’s smiling at her and hands her a glass of water.

“I’m working on my tan, pops.” She smiles back and takes a long drink. 

“Eichels don’t tan, we burn, and then turn pink.”

“Don’t worry, I put on a ton of sunscreen.” 

He snorts. “Okay, kiddo. Good luck with that.” He heads inside and Riley follows him, leaving Jack completely alone. Again. 

When she heads back inside an hour later, she’s definitely burned.  

—

The rest of her weekend progresses much the same. Swimming. Reading. Playing golf with her dad. Taking Riley for walks. Not talking to Noah Hanifin.

When Jessie and Johnny arrive on Wednesday morning, Jack’s in the kitchen with her mom. Her parents have a cookout every July 4th, and this summer is no different. She’s expecting, beer, burgers, and fireworks—but for the moment she’s been relegated to corn shucking duty. 

It’s not that Jack _can’t_ cook, it’s that Jack _hates_ to cook. She can do breakfast just fine and can throw together a couple of meals, but it’s never something she’d do for fun, much to her mother’s disappointment.  

“Cooking for the people you love is a gift, Joanna,” she’d say. Maybe so, but Jack thought it was bullshit.

Jessie, bless her, senses Jack’s raising blood pressure and takes over. 

She takes one look at Jack’s ratty Nike shorts and says, “Is that what you’re wearing?”

Jack doesn’t need her to say anything else. She drops the corn she’s halfway through shucking, and goes to get ready. 

Upstairs, it’s much quieter. Even though it’s just her family downstairs right now, she knows that in just a few hours, it’ll be tons of family friends and neighbors that she barely sees anymore. And while she knows that most of them are respectful, she’s weary of how many of the pictures taken of her at this party could end up on Deadspin. 

So, she showers, puts some effort into her hair, and even throws on some liquid eyeliner on top of her usual mascara-brows-and-lips combo. Her sister is definitely going to comment on the amount of makeup she’s wearing and for a moment, Jack debates removing it. 

She throws on a red bikini, pulls on a white t-shirt and some ripped jorts, and calls it a day. Jack isn’t a fashion plate like Segs or Barzy, but she definitely isn’t hopeless like Sid or Claude. She likes to look good, but she’s also, unfortunately, very lazy on a day-to-day basis. 

Before she can go back downstairs, though, Jessie slips into her room. 

“Can I help you with something?” Jack asks as she sprays more leave-in conditioner on her curls. 

“Hi to you too, bitch,” Jessie says as she sits on the edge of the bed.

“Hi, Jessie,” Jack mutters.

“So, what’s the sitch with you and Noah?” Jessie asks. 

“The sitch?” 

“I couldn’t exactly ask you about it last time I saw you, since mom was there. But like, what’s the story with that?”

Jack looks at her flatly. “There’s no _story_ , Jess. Nothing’s going on.”

“Okay, sure,” Jessie laughs, “but mom said he gave you a hickey.”

Jack spins around to look at her. “Mom needs to mind her own fucking business.”

“Don’t be a brat, Jack." 

She crosses her arms and stares at the floor.  

“C’mon, Jack. I’ve been with Johnny for over five _years_ now. You gotta give me _something_.”

“Not my fault your relationship is boring.”

“ _Jack_.”

“ _Fine_ ,” Jack says, coming to sit on the bed next to Jessie. “We started hooking up earlier this summer.”

“You’re fucking joking, right? That’s not all you’re giving me, is it? At least tell me what he’s _like_.”

“What, like, in _bed_?” Jack asks. Jessie stares back at her. “I’m not doing that!”

“Why not? You’ve told me about other hookups in the past.” 

“This isn’t like that,” Jack whines.

Jessie quirks her eyebrow at Jack, looking _thrilled_. “Oh no? So tell me, Jackie, what’s it like?”

“I’m not fucking telling you anything.” 

“I’ll tell you what Johnny’s like.”

“Please, god, _no_ ,” Jack pleads. “I don’t want to know anything about how your fiancé is in bed.” 

Jessie goes to say something else, but at that precise moment, their mom pokes her head through the door. 

“Alright, girls?” They both nod. “Good. I could use some help downstairs, if you don’t mind?” 

It’s not a request. No one in this family has any idea how to ask for help. It’s always a command. Jessie and Jack both follow their mother down the stairs and into the kitchen. 

“Don’t think this is over, Jackie,” Jessie says as she cuts up potatoes. 

“Like hell it isn’t,” Jack says as she slices the watermelon.

—

The afternoon passes in a haze of beer, burgers, and fireworks, just as Jack had anticipated. In the evening, as the party dwindles, Jack claims a chair in a quiet corner of the yard, working her way through a six pack all by herself, Riley asleep at her feet. A neighborhood kid offers her a sparkler, which Jack accepts. She films a boomerang of herself holding it and sends it to Hanny. He sends back a picture of him and his siblings, in matching outfits, sitting on a sand dune. It’s all exceedingly WASPy.

He calls her that night while she’s laying in bed. She’s tired down to her bones from the sun and beer and time spent around family. It feels good to hear his voice.

“When are you headed home?” he asks.  

“Probably in the morning,” she whispers down the line.

He hums. “I think we’re leaving Friday morning,” he says. “I was thinking that I could come over?”

“That sounds nice,” she all but slurs.  

“Are you falling asleep on me, Eichs?” he asks. 

She hums in response. Her eyelids are just so heavy.

Noah’s quiet on the other end, and for a few minutes all she can hear is his soft breathing. Just as she’s starting to drift off, she hears him say, “Missed you this week, Jack. Wish you were here.” 

The next morning, it was all but a dream.

—

Jack’s out shopping when she calls Sam. Things still weren’t 100% after the disagreement they had a couple weeks back, but… it’s fine. They’re moving on. Whatever. 

When she left her apartment this morning, she’d been looking for a new swimsuit or two, some shoes to go with her bridesmaids dress, and maybe a couple of new outfits to wear when the NTDP boys came into town. She and Noah had rented out a beach house on the Cape, with plans to spend a long weekend on the water. It was going to be sick. 

What she’d ended up with was this: three swimsuits, four pairs of shorts, two crop tops, three bodycon dresses, and a new pair of Louboutins for the wedding. Then she’d walked past the Gucci store and, well. She’d walked back out with a pair of slides, two pairs of heels to wear during the season, a suit, a belt, and two bags. It was… more than she’d intended to get. 

So, she’s hoping that if she facetimes with Sam, she’ll spend less. Their track record isn’t stellar, but it’s worth a shot. 

“What are you buying lingerie for, exactly?” Sam asks. She’s eating jerky and it’s making Jack a little hangry.  

“I’m looking for something to wear under my bridesmaids dress.” Sam nods.

“Right. Are you sure lacy and black is the right choice for a peach colored dress?”

“It’s blush.”

“ _Whatever_ ,” Sam says, rolling her eyes. 

“And no, this isn’t for the wedding. It just caught my eye.” Jack hums. “Do you think Noah would like this?”

Sam stares at her through the screen. “Are you fucking joking?”

Jack shrugs, fiddling with the straps. 

“I think Noah would like you in soaking wet hockey gear, right after a game.”

Jack crinkles her nose. “That’s disgusting, Reino.”

“I’m just saying, you don’t need to do anything to impress him. He’s already there.” Sam laughs. “Besides, I thought this was just hooking up.”

“It is,” Jack says, taking the black bra off. The one she replaces it with is a pale blue. The cups are sheer with little polka dots embroidered all over it. 

“Doesn’t mean I can’t like, look nice, or whatever.” 

“Okay, Eichs, whatever you say.” Sam rolls her eyes at Jack. “You should get that one, though. It makes your tits look huge.”

“My tits _are_ huge,” she mumbles. 

Sometimes she envies the small-breasted girls in the NHL, like Marns and McDavid. Fitting into sports bras and under their gear is easy for them. But Jack—like Sid and Nicke—is stacked. 

(Even with all the problems they cause her while playing hockey, she’d never trade them in. She kind of really loves them.)

She does end up buying the matching lacy black set, as well as the blue bra. Fuck Sam.

—

It’s not that anyone really _loves_ training, just that some athletes are better than others when it comes to powering through it. Jack, however, hates training.   

When she’d woken up that morning with Noah still in her bed from the night before, it’d been especially hard to leave. She wasn’t exactly sure when this happened—spending the night with each other. They’d sort of fallen into the habit at some point and showed absolutely zero sign of stopping. If she wasn’t at Noah’s, he was at hers.

He looked good there, soft and relaxed in her bed, sheets slipping down his torso and putting his summer-thick body on display. For a brief moment, she entertained the notion of calling in sick with her trainer and waking Noah up with her mouth. But it was fleeting. She had responsibilities, and training was one of them. She had to be ready for the season, for her team. So, she’d crawled out of bed, gotten dressed in the dark, and left.

Her trainer runs her into the ground. There’s cardio, weight lifting, and she’s pushed until she thinks she might be sick, hands braced on her thighs, doubled over and heaving. But it’s good. It’s what she needs. Her brain is nothing but static—no worrying about her team, last season or this season—or Noah. 

Jack expects him to be gone by the time she gets back, but isn’t surprised to find him still there. She tries to play it off when she reveals that she picked up a coffee and muffin for him too. His smile is fond when she says, “Don’t start, Hanny. I would’ve finished it off myself if your lazy ass wasn’t still here.”

It’s easy to settle on the bed next to him, ESPN playing faintly in the background. He’s warm and solid next to her and between one breath and the next, she’s asleep.

When she wakes up, she’s boiling. She never changed into shorts after she got back from training, and between still wearing her leggings and Noah spooned up behind her, she’s close to overheating. Luckily, Noah’s sleeping hard enough that it’s easy to slip out from under his arm, leaving him to wrap around her pillow and starfish out into the space she’s vacated.  

Her phone is buzzing on the nightstand where she left it. A text from Reino. A text from Auston. A text from Dylan. She reads through them, answering before going to take a shower.

Jack likes her showers hot, like _really_ hot. So hot that Noah had jumped back from it the first time they’d showered together, hissing and staring at her like he’d been betrayed. But with how overheated she is right now, she sets it to a lukewarm temperature at first, stripping her clothes off, before getting in. She stands there for a few long minutes, letting the water rush over her sore body, rinsing the dried sweat from her skin and cooling her down. She takes her time in the shower, setting the water to the hot temperature she usually prefers, washing her body and her hair, before putting an obscene amount of conditioner in her hair. She piles it on top of her head to sit for a while, reaching for her razor to shave. Being a hockey player, she’s gotten used to just letting her body hair do whatever it wants. She doesn’t have the time or energy to be completely hairless all the time—and she’s never gotten any complaints. But Jack’ll be damned if she doesn’t love the way freshly shaved legs feel.   

She rinses her hair with cool water, shuts the shower off, and grabs her towels—one towel for her body, one microfiber one for her hair. She wraps herself in the thicker towel, before using the small microfiber one to gently squeeze the water out of her curls. During the season, it’s hard to keep her hair looking good. The amount of working out and sweating she does necessitates more washing than she likes. Her curls get dry and frizzy, often losing their shape and becoming a temperamental nightmare. Days and weeks on the road make it difficult to do masks and co-washing can be nearly impossible. So during the summer, she tries her hardest to treat it right. 

It’s long this summer, tumbling over her shoulders in thick, tight curls. “A mane,” Noah had called it once, twisting a curl around his finger. She liked that. Liked how obsessed he was with her hair. He could never stop touching it. Not when they were having sex, or when they were out to eat, or when they were just hanging out. If she was close to him, his hands were in it. One night, he’d even braided it for her. Had her sit between his knees and given her a rather well-practiced french braid.

“Lily,” he’d said before she could ask. “When my dad was sick, mom was so busy and stressed out all the time that I tried to pick up the slack wherever I could. Doing Lily’s hair for her was one of the things I learned to do.”

That simple admission had made Jack’s heart swell up, real Grinch style, feeling three sizes too big for her chest. She’d lain awake in bed for hours after Noah had left, haunted by thoughts of him and his hands and little girls with matching braids. 

Noah’s awake when she leaves the bathroom, a trail of steam emerging from behind her. Goosebumps raise up across her exposed skin. Her bedroom is cold compared to the damn near tropical heat of her bathroom.

“You, uh. You got a text.” Noah says, his voice cracking. Jack gives him a weird look before picking up her phone. He clears his throat, looking away. 

_Message from Big Dick D_ 🍆💦

_Dylan_. She smirks. Oh boy. 

She thumbs open her phone, laughing a little at his reply to what she’d sent him earlier. They’ve got an ongoing thread where they defend their favorite worst NHL jerseys. Jack’s most recent text had been her dissertation on why the 2006-2010 “Buffaslug” jersey _were_ actually _good_. Dylan is trying to explain why she’s, categorically, wrong. 

Jack gets dressed quickly, pulling on a Sabres hoodie and a pair of Nike running shorts that’ve seen better days. She goes out into the living room, settling down on the couch and wrapping herself in a blanket. Noah follows her out a few minutes later, wearing a pair of her sweats. 

She finally replies to Dylan, setting her phone down after she’s told him exactly why it’s _him_ who’s wrong. Jack flips on the TV, curling up close to Noah’s side as they pick back up on where they left off in _Jane the Virgin_. Unlike normal, Noah’s quiet, not reacting at all to the plot like he typically would. Jack pokes at him, but he simply grabs her hand and traps it with his against the blanket. He stays staring straight ahead at the TV. _Fine_ , if the wants wants to play it that way, Jack won’t stop him.

After two episodes, Jack gets up for snacks, spreading half the contents of her fridge out on the coffee table, settling into the space between it and her couch and the space between Noah’s legs. She checks her phone again when she sits down. Noah tenses on the couch behind her.  

She gets all her snacks sorted out, trying to decide between dried fruit or hummus, ultimately opting to start with pineapple.

She’s been eating in silence when Noah finally says, “So, who’s Big Dick D?”

Jack sighs, pushing the bowl of pineapple back. “God, here we go. I _knew_ that was bugging you.” She turns to look at him over her shoulder.

His eyebrows shoot up. “No, you didn’t!”

Jack nods aggressively. “Yes, I did,” she says, picking up a piece of celery and brandishing it at him. “You were being all quiet and sulky.” 

His shoulder hunch up around his ears. “Take that back, Eichs! I was not.”

“Okay, but you were.” She’s smiles at him and he rolls his eyes. He hates this, she can tell. _Hates_ how much she’s loving this.

“So… who is it?” 

Jack lets out a loud laugh at that. She starts to eat her hummus.

He stares at her for a few moments. Eyes boring into the side of her head. “Hm?” She asks.

“ _Jack_ ,” he hisses.

She rolls her eyes at him. “Don’t have a cow, bro. It’s just _Stromer_.”

Jack gives Noah a moment for what she’s just said to settle in. 

“Why is he in your phone as Big Dick D?”

Jack sighs, swallows her hummus. “Because he’s got a big dick.” The _duh_ is implied.

Noah sits back hard, staring at anything but her. 

The thing is—Noah’s never shared a locker room with Dylan. Never had to be anywhere near a naked Dylan. He’s never been on a team with him or spent a prolonged amount of time with him outside of that summer in 2015. There are rumors about Dylan, of course, none Noah’s probably heard. But… hockey players are gossips by nature, spending way too much time in each other’s pockets, shooting the shit about who’s fucking who and, sometimes, which players have the biggest dicks.  

“Wait, how do you know that?” Noah finally asks. He cringes the moment it’s out of his mouth, makes an abortive move like he wants to reach out and grab the question back before she can answer it. Jack can’t give him that satisfaction.

“We hooked up,” she says, shrugging like it’s nothing—and it is. She and Dylan… it’s nothing. They hooked up a few times over the years, starting when he turned up at a Sabres game while he was still in Erie. He was so sad about being in the O without Connor, was sad about _Connor_ , and wanted to talk to someone who’d understand—free of judgement. They’d ended up fucking that night, hooking up a couple more times over the years, but it was never anything serious. She didn’t even think about it that much. 

She tells Noah that, when he asks, “Really?”  

“We’re just bros, though,” she says, finally, after she’s explained everything. He looks a little skeptical. “It would never work out. He’s like, stupid in love with Connor.”

Noah’s brows shoot up to his hairline. Jack doesn’t think she’s ever seen him look so alert. He lets out a breath. “ _McDavid_?” he asks.   

Jack nods, turning back to her snacks.

“So he’s in love with Connor. What’s your excuse?” 

Jack freezes. She didn’t think he’d ask her that. And like… Jack has her reasons. But they’re _hers_. She doesn’t want to tell Noah that the reason she never keeps a guy around long enough for it to become serious, is because she doesn’t want to give the media another reason to talk about her. It’s bad enough, the way they speculate about her and the way she hangs out with other players. Is she sleeping with her teammate? With another player in the league? And yes, she _did_ do that, but adding in romance on top of that? No way. She didn’t need anyone seeing an ounce of her soft underbelly—and she certainly didn’t need articles written about it. 

Jack makes a face. “Come on, Hanny. Love doesn’t come easy for girls like me,” she says, trying to play it off as a joke.

When she looks at Noah, he just looks sad. And well… she wasn’t expecting that either. It makes her stomach knot up and she has to look away.

—

Jack wakes up one morning to find that her sheets smell like Noah. In a sleepy daze, she smiles and buries her face in the pillow he’s claimed as his, stretching and breathing in his scent. He hasn’t spent the night in two days, and yet, here he is, embedded in her life in the most intimate of ways.

He’d left on Tuesday to spend the week in Raleigh packing up his apartment and getting ready for his move to Calgary. She’d briefly considered offering to tag along and help, but one look at him told her that this was something he needed to do alone. So he’d gone and she’d stayed.

She’s meeting Pasta for lunch today, having received a text from him a few days before that contained nothing but the sushi emoji.  She’d replied with a thumbs up. Communicating almost exclusively in emojis worked for them. 

Jack was kind of desperate to tell someone that she was meeting him for lunch. She knew she couldn’t tell Noah and that Charlie wouldn’t really care and that Dylan would just laugh at her. So last night, she’d texted Sam.

**jack**  
_lunch w pasta tomorrow_

**reino 🦏**  
_did you tell noah?_

**jack**  
_tell him what exactly_

**reino 🦏**  
_that ur having lunch with your ex-fuck buddy_

**jack**  
_should i…………?_

**reino 🦏**  
_ur so annoying  
you gonna let pasta smash?_

 **jack**  
_don’t say it like that_  
_and idk_  
_maybe_  
_i haven’t really thought about it_

And Jack wasn’t lying. She hadn’t really thought about it until Sam brought it up. Saying yes to lunch with Pasta was easy. Though they hadn’t spent much time together outside of the bedroom, she liked him. He wasn’t the smartest guy she’d ever talked to, but then again, neither was Noah. Still, Pasta made her laugh and she always had a great time with him. Lunch was a no brainer. 

But now… now she was thinking about it. Sex with Pasta. It had always been good. Fun, uncomplicated, _good_ sex. A month ago, she’d have jumped back into bed with him, no questions asked. Today, though, it made her feel unsettled and anxious. She didn’t understand why. The thought of kissing Pasta, of fucking him, felt wrong.

Jack wasn’t sure what lunch was supposed to be, if it was just lunch between kind-of-friends or if he wanted more. She spends longer getting ready than she usually would, just in case, and tries to ignore the way she’s buzzing with anxiety.

They meet at a sushi place in Downtown Crossing. The hostess seems to know him pretty well, and immediately leads them to a table in the back. He shakes his head when Jack raises an eyebrow at him. 

“Bring lots of girls here?” she asks once they’re seated.

He laughs, but doesn’t answer.

David looks good, tanned from hours spent in the sun, and looking lean, but strong. He’s never been the biggest guy physically, but he’s got a huge presence. She likes that about him.

“You look good,” he says. “Hair’s long. I like it.” He reaches out and tugs on one of her curls. Normally, it’d be a flirty move that she’d be charmed by. It doesn’t work this time. 

They talk about the specials and place their orders quickly. Once their menus have been cleared away, Pasta says, “Sorry I haven’t talked much this summer. Things have been… crazy.”

Jack knows he’s got the China games coming up and has seen him going back and forth between Boston and Prague and Stockholm more than a few times. With all of that, plus training? Yeah, Jack gets it.

“I was starting to wonder if you’d forgotten about me,” she says, attempting to be flirty, though her heart isn’t in it. “Saw you rented a boat a few weeks ago. That looked fun.”

Pasta grimaces. “That was stupid. Really got talked to about that. Team not like it.”

“Yeah, I can imagine,” she smiles at him and he smiles back, chipped teeth on full display. 

“What about you? How’s your summer?”

“It’s… good. Yeah.” She tucks her hair behind her ear and does not look at him.

“Seeing anybody?” He raises his eyebrow at her knowingly.

She narrows her eyes at him. “What do you know?”

He shrugs. “Don’t _know_ anything. Just… hear things.”  

She takes a sip of her water and keeps her mouth shut.

“He not want to join us for lunch?”

Jack looks up at him then and projects her strongest We’re Not Talking About This energy. 

David, as always, ignores her vibes. “Think he be jealous if he know we’re out for lunch together?” he asks, hard to understand around how hard he’s smiling. “Bet you not tell him we’re here.” 

“You would be right,” she grits out. “I didn’t tell him we’re at lunch together, because there’s nothing to tell. We’re just friends.”

“Me and you?” 

“ _No_. Me and him.”

Pasta hums. “That’s not what I hear.”

Jack flicks paper from her chopstick wrapper at him. “You’re so fucking _annoying_. Why did I agree to come again?”

“You like me.”

“Yeah, not sure why.” He smiles at her, and she can’t help but smile back. 

Their food starts to come and they eat in relative silence, talking only about safe subjects, like hockey, golf, and other sports.

“Saw you played some tennis with Nylander this summer. How’s he doing?”

Pasta freezes for the briefest moment, nearly dropping a piece of tuna.

“Uh, he’s good. Yeah.” 

“Nervous about contract negotiations?” she asks, thinking about Sam. 

Pasta nods. “A little.”

Jack starts to say something else about contracts when David says, “Actually, that’s why I not call when I was in Boston earlier.”

“Nylander’s contract?” she asks, confused.

Pasta shakes his head. “No, I. Willy and I, we…” he scrunches his eyebrows up, looking a little frustrated, like he’s not sure how to say what he needs to say. 

And then it hits Jack. David and… Willy. Willy _and_ David. 

“ _Oh_ ,” she says, eloquently.

He nods. “Yeah. We. Uh, before. When we’re young.” He shrugs. “I take his number when I’m drafted. Think it’s funny. Cute. He… not think so. We stop talking for a while.”  

Jack has no idea what to say.

“But last summer, he call me. Says Auston invite him to Boston to hang out with Hanifin. Ask if I want to come. So I say yeah,” he smiles softly. “For him, I always say yeah.”

Jack remembers that. Remembers pictures of Hanny playing the lonely fifth wheel. He’d asked her to come hang out with them, but she’d been busy with something. She can’t remember what now, and feels pangs of regret that she didn’t tag along too. 

“We’ve been talking since. It’s… good.”

“So when we—” Jack starts to ask.

“No. _No_. No, we’re not really together until this summer,” he assures her.

“But now you are. Together?”

He nods, looking nervous. Jack reaches across the table, grabbing his hand. He’s looking her in the eye when she says, “David, that’s great.” He smiles now, big and chipped. “Seriously. I’m so happy for you.”

“I’m happy too,” he says, radiating it.

She thinks about Noah alone in Raleigh and the sheets on her bed smelling like his skin. She wonders, briefly, if she’ll ever be that happy. 

After lunch, they stand side by side on the sidewalk for a few moments, just staring at each other. 

“You have a good season, okay?” he says. She nods.

“You too. But, like, not _too_ good.” He laughs and pulls her in for a tight hug. They’re the same height, so it’s easy to press her face into the side of his. 

“See you in October,” she says. He squeezes her. 

“See you on the ice, Eich.” He tugs one of her curls, before turning and walking off to his car.

—

Noah facetimes her that night. It’s late enough that she’s in bed, _Chocolat_ on the TV, dosing on and off.

“Did I wake you?” he asks, when she slurs “Hannyyyyyy” into the phone.

“No, I’m up,” she says, but even she’s not convinced. She can see the way she looks in the top corner of the screen, burrowed deep into a hoodie and her sheets.

He laughs at her quietly. “How was your day?”

“It was good,” she yawns. “I saw Pasta today,” she says before she can stop herself, mouth moving before her brain can catch up.

Noah freezes, going quiet. His smile drops off his face. “Really?” he asks. “How was that?”

“Good,” she hums. “ _Really_ good, actually. It was nice to see him.”

Noah frowns. 

“We had a lot of catching up to do. Actually, he—”

Noah waves at the screen, an abortive gesture. “Jack, wait, I’m not sure—” 

“Wait, let—”

“—I want to hear this—”

“—me finish.”

Both of them stop talking at the same time, nothing but their breathing filling up the silence. 

“Did you fuck him?” Noah asks, sounding small. His shoulders are up around his ears.

“And what if I did?” Jack asks, petulant, and fully awake now. She sits up against the headboard, glaring down into the screen. 

“Did. You. Fuck. Him?” Noah asks, saying each word slowly and with angry punctuation. 

“No, of course not,” she says, rolling her eyes.

“Of course not?” he asks, voice sounding softer now.

“I wasn’t feeling it,” she says, flippant, and  quickly follows it up with, “and even if I had been, he’s with someone now. So. That ship has sailed.”

“And that’s why?” Noah asks. 

Jack shrugs. “Yeah, that’s why.”

He frowns again, and Jack thinks that maybe, he looks disappointed.

“Got it.” He rubs his hand across his face, before saying, “Listen, Jack. It’s been a really long day. I think I’m gonna just head off to bed. I’ll be back Friday.”

“Okay,” Jack says, a little confused about what’s just happened. 

“See you then?” she asks.

“Yeah,” he sighs. “See you then.”

—

It’s too fucking hot in Boston to do anything but stay inside. Jack’s afternoon plans are simple and consist of ignoring her meal plan, doing a 90s Meg Ryan marathon, and maybe calling Mitch to gossip.

Noah crashing through her door in full workout gear ruins all her plans. 

“Jesus, Hanifin, do you ever knock?”

Noah flops down on the floor in front of her coffee table, stretching out in a way that isn’t exactly helping him get ready for… whatever it is he’s planning to do, but is certainly doing a lot for her. His _quads._  

“Why would I do that when I have a key?

Jack rolls her eyes. “That’s supposed to be for emergencies only.”

He looks up at her through hair that’s flopped in front of his eyes, “This _is_ an emergency, Eichs.”

She throws a pillow at him, which he doesn’t even attempt to block. It hits him square in the face, before falling to the floor. “Summer training isn’t an emergency, Hanny. I meant something like, I’d had a sex accident in the shower and needed someone to come dress me to preserve my dignity before the ambulance comes.”

Noah makes a face at her. “What kind of sex are you having in the shower that could cause an accident?”

“That’s not the _point_ , Hanny. The point is, you’re not supposed to just let yourself in without texting me first. I could’ve been with someone.” 

Noah doesn’t say anything and when Jack looks at him, he’s frowning at his shins like they’ve personally betrayed him. “Sure, Jackie. I’ll text next time. No problem.”

“Good. Great.” She doesn’t feel as satisfied as she should. She actually feels a bit like she’s kicked a puppy, which is probably what leads her to actually get up, get dressed and go running with Noah. It doesn’t help that when she agrees, he starts smiling at her and running in place like an idiot. 

He’s practically vibrating when they ride the elevator down to the lobby of her building and she has to suppress her urge to roll her eyes. He’s so damn excitable sometimes.  

“Will you _relax_? You’re shaking the damn elevator.”

“Sorry,” he says, smiling. He doesn’t sound sorry at all.

They leave her apartment in the Seaport District, running down Seaport Boulevard, across the river, through Downtown Crossing, before stopping when they get to Boston Common. It’s not a far run by any means, but it’s hot out, the air in the city heavy with humidity and exhaust and the heat coming off the T and the concrete. It’s oppressive and her tank top is clinging to her from how much she’s sweating. She doesn’t miss it when Noah watches her strip her tank top off, tucking it into the waist of her shorts. Jack knows she’s sweaty and that her cheeks are probably blotchy and that her hair is curling up more than normal, going wild in the humidity, but the way Noah’s watching makes her feel attractive in a way she normally wouldn’t, not in this condition. She’s pacing in front of him a little while he sits on a bench overlooking the State House. Down the path a ways, she spots an ice cream cart. She’s barely said, “Hanny—” before he’s sighing, taking out the wallet she knows he takes with him everywhere, and handing it to her. He trusts her enough to let her take off with it, bouncing away to buy herself whatever she wants.  

At this time of day, there’s no line. She buys herself a Bomb Pop and gets a frozen lemonade for Noah. When she hands it to him, he smiles—something soft and small. 

“Shut up,” she says, tearing open her popsicle.  

“Didn’t say anything,” he says around a mouthful of his frozen lemonade. 

“You didn’t need to, Hanny,” she says before wrapping her mouth around her Bomb Pop.

And—okay maybe she hadn’t thought her selection through entirely. She’d eaten a million popsicles in front of him before, but this time it felt different. She was a little self conscious in a way that felt out of character for her. Jack forced that feeling down. 

It didn’t stop Noah from glancing at her every few minutes, watching out of the corner of her eye as she alternated between licking and sucking on her popsicle, her fingers, the stick. 

“You’re doing that on purpose,” he says when she’s halfway done. 

“I’m not doing anything,” she says, wrapping her lips around the popsicle, sucking on the tip, before taking it in as far as she could. Noah’s eyes don’t leave her mouth. She pulls off with an obscene noise.

“Now, _that_. That was on purpose,” she says, smirking. 

“You’re a mean woman, Eichs.” He shifts on the bench a little, spreading his knees, and pulling at his shorts. She laughs, getting up to finish her popsicle, throwing the stick away before coming back to get Noah’s trash. He’s still sitting when she gets back and she doesn’t fight her compulsion to reach out and run her hand through his hair. There’s no one around right now, certainly no one who’d recognize them. She can have this. He smiles up at her and leans into her touch. She scratches his scalp a little before pulling away. 

She has an overwhelming urge to kiss him. To stand between his spread knees, lean into his space, and just… kiss him. She wonders if he would taste sweet. 

But the moment passes and instead, she says, “Race me back?” 

He squints up at her. “What do I get when I win?” 

“Who says you’re winning, Hanny?”

He shrugs. “I’m taller.”

She scoffs. “Right, because that’s a guarantee.” He shrugs again. “Fine. If I win, I get to sit on your face. If you win you get—” 

“I get to pick what we watch for the next week.” Jack frowns.

“Hanny, that’s so lame. You could pick _anything_.”

“Which is why I want to pick what we watch for the next week. C’mon, Eichs. Can’t always watch chick flicks.”

“There’s nothing wrong with chick flicks,” she argues. Noah just raises his eyebrows at her. Jack kicks a rock on the sidewalk. “Fine. You’ve got a deal.”

They shake on it, assume their positions, and take off. 

Noah wins, but not by much. Jack kicks the trash can outside of her building, not because she’s mad about the bargain, but because she hates losing.

Back in her apartment, they stand around drinking water. “So, Hanny, what’ll it be?” 

He smiles big and slow. “Star Wars. Chronological order. All eight.” Jack groans. “ _And_ , if we have enough time, we start the animated series. Both of them.” Jack curses. Noah raises an eyebrow at her.

“Fine. _Fine_. You won, fair and square. We watch Star Wars for the rest of the week.”

“You’re gonna love it, Jackie, I promise.” He moves around the counter, brushing her curls back from her face, one hand settling on her cheek, the other on her hip. He’s smiling when he kisses her and she is too. His mouth is cold from the water they’ve been drinking and she can still taste the sweet-sour flavor of the frozen lemonade, the salt of his sweat. She chases the taste, can’t get enough of it. They stand there like that for a while, lazily making out in her kitchen, Jack trapped between Noah’s big body and the edge of the counter.

Noah’s kissing down her neck, running his hands over the exposed skin of her abdomen, when he says, “We should move this into the other room.”

Jack’s so distracted by the way he’s sucking a mark onto her collarbone that she almost misses what he says. “What?”

“I don’t really want to fuck you in the kitchen.”

She pulls back and looks at him. His pupils are blown and his mouth is obscenely pink. “You want to fuck me after a run?”

Noah looks confused. “Yes?”

“But… I’m all sweaty?”

Noah looks more confused. “Okay? You get sweaty when we fuck anyway.”

“Yeah, but that’s different.” She tries to will him to understand, but he just stands there with a blank look on his face.

“Jack, it’s cool if you don’t want to, but seriously, I don’t care.” She searches his face for any trace of dishonesty, but doesn’t find any. He stares back for a moment before kissing her again, leading her into her bedroom. 

He strips her out of her sweaty clothes, laughing with her as they struggle to get her out of her sports bra.

“How do you get out of this by yourself after a game?” he asks when she’s finally free, throwing it across the room. 

“With a lot of cursing,” Jack says, pulling him down on the bed with her. He’s staring at her again, eyes soft, before leaning down to kiss her. Unlike most of the times he’s kissed her before, this is different. It’s unhurried, no clear intent in mind. 

It makes her so _wet_ , the uncomplicated way he wants her. She’ll never admit that, though, because of the terrifyingly complicated way it makes her feel. 

Noah’s hard against her thigh, but not really doing anything about it. He’s got himself propped up above her on one elbow, other hand lazily rubbing at her side and the underside of her breast.  

When Noah begins kissing down her neck, her chest, sucking at her nipples and stroking her waist, she can’t help but throw her head back and sigh. She can tell Noah likes this—kissing without purpose. And Jack—she’s hooked up with a lot of guys; but she’s never had anyone really take their time with her, someone who was content to just spend an afternoon in bed with her doing nothing but kissing and touching with no end goal in sight. She knows they’ll fuck at some point, but Noah isn’t racing towards that finish line. He’s happy to just lie here with her. It makes her chest tight.

They kiss for what feels like hours before Noah even touches her. She knows she’s soaking wet when he finally does, can feel his surprise in the way his hand stutters to a stop, the way he sucks in his breath. “Fuck, Eichs. All this from just a little kissing?”

She hums. “I like your mouth, Hanny.”

He laughs under his breath. “Ever the romantic, Jack.”

—

Noah ends up fucking Jack from behind. She’s on all fours with Noah draped over her back when Reino calls. Jack’s willing to just ignore it, but Noah isn’t.

“Who’s calling?” he asks, voice sounding tight. He’s leaning up to kiss down her spine, using his hands to pull her back onto him harder.  

“ _Fuck_ ,” she pants out. She reaches over to her bedside table, tilting the phone so they can both see. “Reino wants to facetime,” she says, looking over her shoulder. He’s frowning, from irritation or concentration, she’s not sure. “Want me to take it? From this angle we can both say ‘hi’.” 

Noah thrusts into her a couple of times in quick succession, before circling his hips at the end. Jack drops the phone back onto the nightstand, collapsing onto her forearms, moaning into the pillow.

“You can call her back,” Noah says, running his hands down her arms before linking their fingers. He’s glued to her back, and like this, his thrusts are shallow, hitting her just right. She’s practically drooling into the pillow when he gets a hand under her, thumbing at her clit a few times, making her orgasm roll through her. He comes a few moments later, moaning into her neck, his breath ghosting across her hair and making her shiver. She lets him stay like that for a while, crushing her into the bed, before she pushes him off. 

“Good game, Hanny,” she says, slapping him on the thigh after he pulls out. He hums, brushing her curls back from her neck, pressing a kiss to her shoulder before getting up to clean himself up. 

She hears the shower start up in her bathroom a few minutes later. Jack lays there for a while, listening to her own breathing, forcing her heart to slow down, before going to join Noah in the shower.

—

On an evening in mid-July, Jack makes a big, impulsive purchase. She’s been stewing in her apartment all day, stuck again because of the fucking rain, thinking about her last three seasons, about all of the things she’s done wrong, all of the things she wishes she could’ve done differently, all the things she might never get to do.

If she thinks about what might happen with her ankle this season _one more time_ , she’s gonna fucking lose it. 

She goes for a walk to clear her head. In the rain. At night. 

—

“I bought a house,” is the first thing Jack says to Noah when he opens his door.

“Did you walk here?” he asks, looking Jack over from head to toe. She’s dripping everywhere.

“Yes.”

“It’s midnight.”  

Jack nods. They stare at each other for a few moments, before Noah takes her by the arm, and pulls her into his apartment. 

“You have a car, you know,” he says as he leads her into his bathroom.  

“Yeah, I realize that,” she says, partially muffled as he pulls her shirt over her head, “but I needed to clear my head, so…”

“So you walked to my apartment, in a completely different part of town, in a rainstorm.” Jack shrugs.

“Basically.”

Noah sighs, like he’s not sure what to do with her. He turns the shower on behind them, stripping her the rest of the way, before following suit.  

“Are you bathing me, Hanifin?” she teases.

“I’m not letting you get in my bed covered in Boston rainwater,” he says, pushing her into the shower, stepping in behind her.

Noah crowds up close behind her, huddling under the spray of the shower, soaking up her warmth and the warmth of the water. Neither says anything for a few moments. It’s nice.

Jack turns to look at Noah, leaning up to kiss him briefly.

“Hi,” he says against her lips.

“Hi,” she says back, smiling.

They do a thoroughly shitty job bathing, thoroughly distracted by each other. It’s one of the best showers Jack’s ever had, even if her hair is all dried out by the end of it.

Later, cuddled up in Noah’s bed, he asks, “So, a house, huh?”

Jack buries her face in his shoulder. “Yeah. I looked at it back in April when I was still in Buffalo. It’s nice.”

Noah’s playing with the drawstring of the sweats he’d lent her. 

“The paperwork was finalized today, though. I’m officially a homeowner.” Jack twirls her fingers in the air, mocking the excitement she knows she’s supposed to feel. 

Noah hums. “And that freaked you out enough that you walked to my apartment at midnight, in the rain, when you could’ve just driven? Or called?”

Jack pulls back from Noah’s shoulder to look at him. “You know,” she says, squinting, “sometimes you know me too well.”

Noah smiles, big and crooked. “I’ve got your number, Eichs.”

She grunts. He nudges her until she starts talking.

“It’s not the house,” Jack sighs. “It’s everything else. It’s the house, the eight year deal, the captaincy…”

Noah raises his eyebrows.

“They want to give me the captaincy.”

Noah’s expression goes all soft and fond and, maybe, a little proud. 

“Holy shit Jack, that’s—”

“I don’t feel like I’ve earned it,” she says, cutting him off before he can finish. “It’s in the cards, I know that. It’s always been their intention, from the moment they drafted me,” she shakes her head, “but I’m not like Sid. I’m not like _Connor_. Leading, it’s… it doesn’t come easy for me.”

“You’ve done more than earn it, Jack,” Noah says. She scoffs. “I’m serious. They wouldn’t give it to you if they didn’t think you could handle it.”

“One good rookie season, followed by two shitty half seasons, doesn't amount to a captaincy, Noah.”

He stares at her with a look that she can’t even begin to decipher. 

“You’ve done so much for the team, Jack. I’ve heard what people have to say. You’re a leader in the room and out of it.” Noah cups her face, thumbing at her cheek. 

“Buffalo loves you,” he says, gaze intense. Jack looks away, going hot all over.

“What if I fuck it up?” she asks, voice small.

“You won’t,” he says. “And if you do, it won’t be the end of the world. Good leaders grow from their mistakes.”

“When did you get so smart?” Jack asks, squinting at him. 

“I’ve always been smart,” he says. “People just think I’m some hockey-playing Masshole meatball.”

“You _are_ a hockey-playing Masshole meatball,” Jack deadpans.

“Yeah, but not _just_.”   

Noah stares at her for a few moments, playing with the ends of her hair before saying, “I think you’re gonna be great, Jack. And even if you’re not, well, I’m always in your corner.” 

He kisses her, then, soft and slow, holding her like she’s something to be cherished, like she _means_ something to him. Jack falls asleep soon after, curled up into his chest, feeling content for the first time in weeks.

—

The humidity in Boston in late July might just kill Jack. A long weekend at the beach is exactly what she needs.  

The clock above the stove reads 3:07. Noah was supposed to be at her apartment over thirty minutes ago, but he was late. Again.

“Stop pacing,” Charlie says from Jack’s couch. “It’s making me anxious.”

“Making _you_ anxious?” Jack asks. “I’m gonna kick his ass if we get stuck in traffic.”

“Maybe the flights got delayed.”

Jack shakes her head. “No chance. Auston was in St. Louis visiting Chucky already, and he texted me over an hour and a half ago letting me know they’d landed. Zach didn’t text, but I know his flight got in just fine.”

“So it’s just Hanny being Hanny,” Charlie says. 

Jack nods. “It’s just Hanny being _fucking_ Hanny.”  

Charlie had spent most of this summer in Boston. From what Jack understood, her girlfriend was from here, and she’d been up every other week visiting her. She wouldn’t tell them who she was seeing, but Jack had her suspicions.  

The boys, on the other hand, were supposed to arrive this afternoon. Noah had agreed to pick them up from the airport before driving over to Jack’s apartment where they split up into threes. Chucky and Zach would ride with Noah, while Auston would join Charlie in Jack’s car. From there, it was an easy ride down the coast to the beach house they rented in Cape Cod. 

If they ever get there.

—

Noah gets to Jack’s apartment an hour late, claiming traffic. Jack gives him, a single, withering look, that makes him beam back at her. They get on the road with little delay and arrive shortly before sunset.

The house they rented is classic Cape Cod—big windows, dark shingles, and huge porches. The beach outside their rental is perfect. It’s private, only accessible to those in the neighborhood, and quiet. Perfect for a rowdy NTDP reunion.

The first night in the house, everyone is content to stay in, grilling steaks and drinking beer on the deck and watching the stars come out. 

Auston and Chucky retire first, followed by Zach and then Charlie, leaving Noah and Jack all alone. 

“This is nice,” Noah says, pulling Jack from her chair next to him, and into his lap. She settles against him easily. It’s cold here in the evenings, and it’s nice to curl into his warmth. 

“I want this someday,” Jack says. Noah stiffens a little behind her.

“Want what?”

“A beach house,” she says. “We never really got to have anything like this when I was a kid. We’d rent houses sometimes with friends, but never anything like this, and never right on the water.”

Noah nods. She’s sure he understands.

“It’d be nice, you know? Living out here.”

“Good place to raise kids,” he says, quietly.

“Exactly.”

They stay like that for a while, quiet and sated and watching the stars.

—

Jack sleeps with her windows open that night. It’s chilly but she likes letting the ocean breeze in, and listening to the waves crash as she drifts off. Noah ends up plastered against her back, even though there are enough bedrooms in the house for each of them to have one. The plan _had_ been for Noah and Jack to sleep separately, but when they reached her door, he’d given her one look and she’d caved.

When she wakes up, the sun is higher in the sky than she’d expected. She can hear seagulls and the ocean. There are children laughing in the distance. 

Noah’s side of the bed is empty, and Jack doesn’t need to check her phone to know he got up to see the sunrise.

Slipping out of bed, Jack throws on one of the bikinis she bought specifically for this trip, before pulling on a pair of denim shorts, and heading downstairs. 

With how quiet the house is, she assumes everyone is still asleep, or maybe down at the beach. She’s surprised to find not just Noah, but Charlie sitting at the kitchen island. They’re speaking in hushed tones when Jack enters the room.

“Good morning sunshine,” Charlie says, way too happy first thing in the morning. Jack grunts, heading straight for the coffee. Noah says nothing, knowing all too well how Jack is first thing in the morning.

“I’m gonna go for a run,” Noah says, getting up from the table. He walks past Jack on the way out, tugging on one of her curls, before leaving the room.  

At the table, Charlie is watching her. Jack’s not sure she likes it. 

“So, how long have you been up?” Jack asks.

“How long have you and Noah been sleeping together?” Charlie asks with no hesitation.

Jack chokes on her coffee.

“I saw him slipping out of your room around five o’clock this morning.”

“What were you doing up?” Jack asks.

“Sunrise.” 

“Right.”

“So? How long?”

“Would you believe me if I said we were just sharing a bed?” Jack asks. Charlie stares at her. Though there are six bedrooms in the house, it sleeps fourteen easily. Jack slumps back against the counter.

“Almost two months,” Jack admits, staring down into her coffee.

“Wow,” is all Charlie says before she starts to laugh. 

Jack makes a face. “Hey, you don’t get to judge me,” she says, indignant, “you of all people.” 

“Me of all people?”  

“Yeah, you’re fucking the coach’s _daughter_.”

Charlie shakes her head, still laughing. “Not _my_ coach.”

Jack sets her coffee down hard. “Yeah, but _a_ coach in the NHL. Do you think that’s smart?”

“Probably not, but… I’m not gonna stop,” Charlie shrugs, “I love her. And he knows it.”

“Wait, what?” Jack asks.

“We’ve been dating for a couple of years now. Her family knows. We’re just not, you know, out.”

Jack had figured as much, but hadn’t been certain. A lot of the women in the NHL weren’t straight, but most of them weren’t out. Not everyone wanted to be like Claude Giroux.

“Enough about me,” Charlie says, “Tell me more about you and Noah.”

“No.” Jack takes a long drink of coffee.  

“Fine, but I’m just going to fill in all the details myself. It started with a candlelit dinner for two—”

“It started after six beers in a Cambridge bar, but go off, I guess.” 

Charlie laughs again, hard like it’s been shocked out of her.  

“God, of course,” she says. “Leave it to you to start some epic romance out in a seedy bar.”

“It wasn’t seedy,” Jack says, “and there’s nothing epic about it. We’re just hooking up.” 

Charlie stops laughing and stares at Jack. “You know he’s like, painfully into you, right?” 

Jack freezes, but tries to play if off. “I mean, I’d hope he’d be into me, since we’re fucking.”

“No,” Charlie shakes her head, “Noah’s like _into_ you. If you’re in the same space, you’re the only thing he’s focused on.”  

“Shut up, that’s not true.” Jack feels her cheeks flush and knows her face has gone red and splotchy.

“It is, though. He lights up when you come into the room.” 

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” she says, shaking her head. When she looks at Charlie, she’s not expecting Charlie to be looking at her with pity, but she is.

“Okay, Jack,” she says, before getting up. “I’m gonna go get changed.”

She watches Charlie as she walks out of the room and up the stairs. Jack’s hands are shaking the whole time.

—

Jack’s making herself breakfast when Noah gets back. He’s shirtless and sweaty and she has to focus very hard on not burning her eggs. 

“It’s so nice out, Jack. We should go for a walk later,” he says, before taking a long drink of water. She watches his throat work, water dripping down his chin.

“Sure,” she says, turning back to her breakfast.

“You okay?” he asks. He’s right up behind her now, big hand on her waist.

Jack nods. “Of course.” 

“Okay. I’m gonna go rinse off.” He kisses her temple, before standing back. “This looks good on you, by the way,” he says, gently pulling on the tie for her bathing suit top.

“If you’re lucky, you’ll get to take it off me later,” she teases. Her heart’s not in it, but she likes the way his gaze heats up. He steps back into her space for a moment, kissing her hard, before pulling back and leaving the room. 

Her skin is still buzzing when Auston comes downstairs, Chucky and Zach trailing behind him.

“We’re gonna run out for doughnuts,” he says. “Want anything?”

“You’re blowing your diet plan,” she sing-songs. 

“So yes,” he says. 

She rolls her eyes at him. “Duh,” she says. And then, “get me a Boston Cream, if they have one.” 

Auston salutes her on the way out the door, Chucky and Zach right on his heels.

—

They spend the day down at the beach. Jack sits under an umbrella for most of it, trying not to get too much sun. Surprisingly, she’s joined by Zach.

“I burn so fast,” he explains, chest already looking a little pink.  

They sit in companionable silence, watching as Noah, Auston, Charlie, and Chucky play spikeball and splash around in the water. 

“How’s Dylan?” Jack asks after a while. Zach’s still hanging out with her under the umbrella and they’ve started drinking.

Zach’s cheeks pink up from the mere mention of Larkin, which Jack finds endearingly cute. “Really good. We went to Lolla together and spent some time at the lake. Her family’s got this house right on the water. It’s nice.”

Jack nods. “Do you see her much during the season?” she asks. 

“Not as much as I’d like. I’m sure you get it,” he says, glancing at Noah.

Jack raises her eyebrow at him. “Yeah, totally,” she replies, not entirely sure what he’s referring to.

She takes a long pull from her beer, looking over just in time to catch Noah watching her. They’re both wearing sunglasses, but… she knows. She smiles at him and he smiles back.

Chucky hits Noah with the soccer ball they’ve been kicking around, and says something Jack can’t hear. Whatever it is, it makes Noah throw the ball back at him with enough force that it causes Chucky to cough when it catches him in the chest.

Jack falls asleep at some point, tipsy off beer and the sun. Noah shakes her awake in the late afternoon.

“Hey,” he says, softly, brushing curls back from her forehead. Jack hums back in response. “Everyone’s headed up to the house. We’re gonna go to a restaurant in town.” 

“Okay,” she says, getting up from her towel. She’s still sleepy and a little wobbly on her feet. Noah puts his hand at the small of her back to steady her. Jack glances around quickly, but none of the guys are there. It’s just the two of them on the beach.

He picks her shorts and towel up off the sand, and she leans into him while they walk back up to the house. Noah smells like sunscreen and beer and salt from the water. She thinks she could get addicted to it. 

—

The place they’re going for dinner is on the nicer side. Jack’s glad she brought something other than jorts with her, if not just for Noah’s reaction. 

Her dress isn’t short by any means, but it has a slit up the front and is very tight. The thin straps and low neck show off her shoulders. On another girl, the neckline would be revealing. On Jack, it’s downright obscene. 

“Holy shit,” is all Noah says when Jack comes down the stairs.

“Yeah, Hanny?” Jack asks, looking down at him. She’s wearing heels. 

Noah nods in appreciation. They’re the only people in the room, and he doesn’t hesitate to pull her in close. 

“Good,” she says against his lips, kissing him softly. His hands wrap around her waist and she feels, more than hears, him moan. Jack pulls back to mouth at his jaw, kissing the skin behind his ear. 

“I’m not wearing anything under it,” Jack says. His hands tighten on her hips, squeezing hard enough to leave bruises. She hopes he does.

Before Noah can say anything, she hears someone fake retching behind him. Looking over his shoulder, she sees Chucky leaning up against the wall. 

“This is almost as bad as watching my parents get it on,” he says. 

“Chucky, I’m going to kill you,” she says. He smirks. “How long have you been standing there, you little shit?” she asks. 

“Long enough to hear you tell Hanno about how you’re not wearing any panties.” 

“Don’t say panties,” she says, grimacing. “And don’t talk to me until you shave your chin, Matthew.” 

Chucky strokes his chin. “That’s the flavor saver, baby,” he says.

“Flavor– ugh, Chucky, get _out_ of here.”

Chucky opens his mouth to say something else, but Noah’s turned around at this point and is glaring at him. He shuts his mouth with a click.

“I’m gonna go wait outside,” he says, walking past them quickly and out the door.

Jack looks at Noah, searching, but he shakes his head. 

“You look really pretty, Jack,” he says, softly. “You should wear your hair down more.” 

She brushes it back from her face, staring at him. He touches her cheek briefly, before following Chucky outside.

—

Dinner is uneventful. Chucky doesn’t bring up what he saw and it doesn’t seem like he’s filled anyone else in on what Jack and Noah are doing; so, Jack behaves herself. 

Back at the house, Jack goes to bed early, leaving the boys and Charlie downstairs. Well after midnight, she feels Noah slip into the bed with her.  

“Go back to sleep, Jack,” he says, kissing her shoulder, before throwing his arm over her. She’s back under in seconds.

—

There are some mornings where Jack wakes up before Noah; ones where she’s content to just lie there next to him in the semi-dark of the room, listening to him breathing while she scrolls through her phone. Other mornings, she slips out and goes to training, coming back to find him still in her apartment. Sometimes sleeping. Sometimes just hanging out. On the rarest of mornings, she watches him sleep.  

That’s how this morning is. When she wakes up, the sun is up, but still low enough that the room hasn’t filled up with light. Jack can see the freckles that have sprung up across Noah’s nose this summer, can see the golden hairs in his beard, and the way his eyelashes leave shadows across his face. 

Jack knows she’s playing with fire. Knows that the longer they do this, the more dangerous it is. If she’s honest with herself, she thinks she likes the danger. 

(She knows she does.)

The guys Jack typically hooks up with let her cut and run without question. Every single time. She doesn’t let them get under her skin. She doesn’t let them get to know her. And she definitely doesn’t let it get serious.

Noah’s not like other guys. 

He’s her best friend. 

The night before they left to go to the beach, she let him get her on her back again. She was really starting to like that—the way it felt to have him completely surrounding her, pressing her down into the mattress, face tucked tight into her neck. She liked the way his arms would shake and the way he crushed her with his weight after. 

Jack liked it so much, it scared her.

She knows she’s going to fuck this up somehow, and the thought of possibly not having Noah in her life anymore is powerful enough to paralyze her with anxiety. 

—

When Noah wakes up, he smiles at her—the crooked one she loves. He’s always so _soft_ first thing in the morning. It makes her heart beat double time.  

“I love it when your hair’s long,” she says, pushing his hair off his forehead. It’s gotten really long this summer. She’s kind of obsessed with it. 

“Yeah?” he asks, looking a little cocky.

Jack rolls her eyes. “God knows why. You never fucking do anything with it.” He catches her hand as she pulls it away. “What can I say? I’m a hockey player. Always weak for a sick flow.” 

“The beard’s good too,” she says, rubbing her hand over his jaw. “Especially love the way it feels between my thighs.”

Noah laughs and presses a kiss to her palm, before letting go of her hand. He gets up from the bed, stretching in front of the window. Jack watches the play of his muscles. She’s tempted to pull him back into bed with her, but she’s afraid someone in the house might hear them.

“Ready to go fishing, Eichs?” Noah asks, pulling his shorts back on. 

She nods. “Ready as I’ll ever be.” Jack likes fishing, but she has a tendency to get seasick. 

“You’ll be fine,” Noah assures her, kissing her hair, before leaving the room. 

— 

Jack, as it turns out, is not fine. She spends the first half of the trip laying down in the cabin with Chucky, who also can’t handle the motion of the ocean. 

“So…” he starts to say

“If you say anything about what you saw last night, I’ll throat chop you.” 

“Got it,” he says and starts talking about Tiger Woods instead.

By the early afternoon, she’s feeling well enough to venture out on deck. Noah’s face lights up when he sees her. Jack thinks of what Charlie had said yesterday and feels sick again. She pushes down on it and wanders over to sit with the guys. Charlie is standing at the back of the boat, reeling for all she’s worth.

They end up catching a few good-sized tuna, heading back to shore by mid-afternoon. Their charter cleans the fish up for them and a chef below deck uses it to prepare a meal for them. There’s sashimi and ahi tuna and oysters and lobster. And wine. Tons of wine.

Halfway through the meal, they’re gossiping. Topic of conversation? Auston and Mitch.

“Oh come on, Auston, you can’t tell me you haven’t at least _thought_ about it,” Charlie says.

Auston’s face is impossibly red. 

“She’s my teammate,” he says, a hint of panic in his voice.

“That’s never stopped anybody,” Chucky says.

They all look at him, everyone clearly thinking about the London Knights, and the years he spent playing with Mitch Marner.

“What? I’m not speaking from experience,” he says, hands lifted. “I’ve just, you know, heard things.”

“She’s my friend, okay? Let’s just, leave it at that,” Auston pleads, looking like a cornered animal.

Jack’s had a little too much wine, so she can’t stop the hard laugh that bubbles up. Auston glares at her. 

“Oh, fuck off, Eichs. Everyone knows you’re screwing Noah,” he says, spitting venom. 

Jack freezes. She looks around the table, searching for surprise from anyone. She finds none. 

“Auston,” Noah hisses. Auston has the grace to look at least a little sheepish.

“Wait, so, everyone knows?” Jack asks quietly. No one says a word. Jack’s heart is beating out of her chest and she needs to get out of here right _fucking_ now, but they’re on a goddamn _boat_. There’s nowhere to _go_. She could jump overboard, but she knows that Noah would jump in after her. She pushes back from the table, mutters an apology, before stumbling down the stairs to the aft of the boat. 

When she gets there, she collapses against the wall, head between her knees. There’s nothing around her but open air. She feels like she’s suffocating all the same.  

Jack hears footsteps a few moments later and knows it’s Noah. He sits down next to her, shoulders brushing. 

“I knew Charlie knew. She saw you coming out of my room,” Jack says. “I didn’t know about everyone else.”

“That’s my fault,” he says. He sounds sorry. She wants him to be sorry.

“You told them?” she asks, furious. “What, you… you _bragged_ to them?”

“No,” he says, shaking his head, eyes wide. “It wasn’t like that. I—I told Auston. I needed advice.”

“Advice.”  

“I wanted to know how you guys made it work, you know, before.” 

“You mean when we fucked in the NTDP?” Noah nods. “That was _one_ time, Noah. We fucked _once_.”  

“I know, I just,” he sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I wanted to know how you guys made it work. After.” 

_After_. After they’d had sex. How had they still gone on as friends. _Oh_ , Jack thinks. Noah was already thinking about after. What it’ll be like when they’re not doing this anymore. Whatever _this_ was. Her heart sinks.  

“And you didn’t think you could ask _me_?” she asks.  

Noah shrugs. “To be honest? Not really.” Jack stares at him. “What? You’re not exactly forthcoming with the way you feel about, well. Anything.”

That stings, even though she knows it’s true.

“So you told Auston.” He nods. “Who told… everybody.” Noah nods again.

“Well,” she says, “that explains how Pasta knew.”

“Pasta knows?”

She nods. “Willy told him.” 

Noah says nothing. When she looks up at him, he’s looking at her. He looks worried. 

“Are you mad at me?” he asks. 

She wants to say no, but she can’t. Quite honestly, she’s furious and embarrassed and a little ashamed. Jack isn’t really sure _why_. She’s always been one to brag about the guys she bags. Never been shy to rehash all of her best (and worst) hookups in vivid detail.  

She’s not sure why, but she feels so _exposed_. Charlie and the guys are some of her closest friends, but all of them knowing about her and Noah… it feels like an invasion. Like they’re seeing something they were never supposed to see. It makes her feel sick and more than a little panicky.

“Yes,” Jack says. She _is_ mad at him. She’s mad at herself, too.

Noah nods. “Okay,” he says. “I get it.” He squeezes her hand, before he gets up and goes back up the stairs. In this moment, she’s grateful that he knows her as well as he does. She doesn’t want anyone to see her like this, least of all him.

Jack stays at the back of the boat, alone, until they get back to shore. The ride back to the house is quiet, with no one saying anything to her, or about what happened. At the house, she goes upstairs immediately, takes a shower, and goes to bed.

She sleeps alone that night and hates every moment of it.

—

In the morning, everyone gives her a wide berth. She eats by herself on the deck, watching the waves, and reading headlines on her phone. She can see Noah and Zach down at the beach, heads close together. She wonders what they’re talking about. They’ve always been close, having spent a year as a d-pair, even longer as friends.

After a while, Auston joins her. He sits quietly with her for a bit before saying, “I’m really sorry.” 

When she looks at him, his cheeks are pink. He’s embarrassed.

Jack’s known Auston for long enough to know that his Cool Guy™ image is just that—an image. He’s a dork and is more than a little awkward around the girls he likes and he cries when he laughs. She likes him for that.  

He can also be a bit thoughtless, and sometimes, downright cruel when he wants to be. She likes him even more for that.

It’s just never been directed at her before, and it stings more than she expected. 

“I shouldn’t have teased you about Mitch,” she says.

Auston shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter. I should’ve never said what I said. I was just…” 

“Embarrassed.”

“Yeah,” he says. “And, I’m sorry that I told everyone.”

Jack stares at him. 

“I can’t keep a secret to save my life,” he admits. “I was talking with Mitch—” Jack quirks a brow. “Shut up. I was talking to Mitchy and, she’s just… so easy to talk to, you know? I can tell her anything.”

“Not anything,” Jack says, smiling.

Auston glares at her. “I’m trying to apologize here.”

Jack laughs.

“Anyway, I told her what Noah told me. And I guess she told Chucky.”

“And Chucky told Zach?” Jack asks.

“No,” Auston says. “I think he just knew. He’s good at that, you know?” Jack nodded. She did know. Zach had this weird sixth sense. He just knew everything somehow.

“So who told Willy?” she asks. “Mitch?” Auston grimaces.

“No, that was also me. Sorry.”

“Jesus, Auston. Who didn’t you tell?”

“That’s it, I swear. Just those two.” Jack glares at him. “Okay. I also told Mo. And Freddie. But that’s it, I promise.” 

Jack sighs. “I’m going to smother you in your sleep, you know that?”

“That’s fair,” he says. 

And then—

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” Jack says. She doesn’t like where this is going.

“Do you know what you’re doing?” Auston asks.

“Never in my life,” she says, grinning.

Auston nods. “Just be careful, okay?” Jack frowns. “Hanny won’t ever say it, but you mean everything to him.”

Jack sucks in a breath. “Auston—” 

“Don’t tell him I said that,” he says, getting up from the table. Jack nods, speechless, and watches as he goes back inside.

—

They head back to Boston that afternoon. All the boys are staying at Noah’s before heading out in the morning, so they all pile into Noah’s car. Charlie, sensing Jack’s mood, drives them back to the city. She doesn’t bring Noah up the whole ride.

“Hey, I know you’re like, not in the best mood,” Charlie says once they’re back at Jack’s, “but we’re going out tonight. To a club. You should come.” 

Jack grimaces. “Do you think that’s the best idea?”

Charlie shrugs. “Probably not, but you can’t hide out for the rest of the offseason. Might as well come say goodbye to the boys.”

“Okay,” Jack concedes. “Yeah. I’ll be there.” 

—

They’re going to The Grand. Jack knows Noah likes it a lot, though, it’s not really her kind of place. It isn’t really a t-shirt kind of club, so she pulls on a pair of tight black jeans and a slinky top. She wears her hair down, and tells herself it’s not just because Noah likes it.

She meets them well after midnight. The guys are in the VIP section, but she sees Charlie at the bar. Noah looks surprised to see her.

“You came,” he says, leaning into her space so she can hear him. 

“Charlie convinced me,” she says back. He’s wearing cologne and it takes all her willpower to keep herself from burying her face in his neck. 

“Jack, listen—”

Jack shakes her head. “It’s fine. I don’t want to talk about it.” He looks stricken. “Seriously, don’t worry about it, we’re cool.”

“Okay,” he says, like he’s not sure he believes her. “Can I get you a drink?” 

She shakes her head. “I’ll get it,” she says, standing up to go join Charlie at the bar. She knows she could have it taken care of at the table—the boys got bottle service—but she can’t sit here. Not with Noah. Not with all of the boys watching them.

At the bar, Jack stands next to Charlie and orders a gin and tonic. They nod at each other, but Charlie continues her conversation with the guy standing next to her. Something about football, but Jack’s really not following. 

She downs her first drink quickly, ordering another immediately after, sipping that one at a slower pace. There’s a guy next to her at the bar. He’s tall, handsome, and pretty built. She wonders, briefly, if he was an athlete at some point. Jack can tell that he’s watching her. She kind of likes that he is. 

She finishes her drink, before turning to him and introducing herself. His name is Adam. He’s twenty-four and went to Harvard. She reserves her judgement. He’s from New Hampshire, likes dogs, and works in software development. He was a rower in college. 

“I _knew_ it,” she says.

“Oh yeah?” he asks.

“It’s the arms,” she replies, flexing her bicep. He laughs.

“ _My_ arms. Jesus, look at yours.” She laughs, smiling up at him through her lashes.

“I play hockey.” 

“Any team I’d recognize?” he asks. 

She hums. “Maybe.”

If this were any other summer, if she hadn’t been fooling around with Noah, she might entertain going home with him.  

It hits her, then, that she _could_ go home with him. She and Noah—whatever they’re doing—they never agreed to be exclusive.

So, she leans into Adam, testing the waters. He sways into her space. “Do you wanna get out of here?” she asks.

He smiles and nods. 

“Gimme a few minutes, okay? I’ve gotta say goodbye to my friends.”

“Meet you out front?” Jack nods. She turns back to the bar, settling her tab. Suddenly, Charlie is all but plastered to her side. 

“Can I help you?” she asks. 

“What are you doing?” Charlie asks. 

“Paying my bill?” Charlie glares at her.

“Don’t do this, Jack,” she says. 

“I’m not doing, _anything_ ,” Jack says, backing away from the bar to head back over to the VIP section. 

When she gets there, Zach, Auston, and Chucky are engrossed in a heated debate of some sort, but Noah is staring at her. 

“Hey guys, I’m uh, I’m gonna head out,” she says. The boys make disappointed noises, but all stand to hug Jack goodbye. She wishes them luck for the season, before turning to Noah.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” he asks. Jack nods, and he follows her out of the section.

They find a relatively quiet corner and he crowds up into her space. “Are you leaving with that guy?” he asks.

Jack nods. “Jack, I know you’re still mad at me for telling Auston, but—” 

“This isn’t about you, Hanny,” she says.

“Okay…” he says, confused. “Then why are you—” 

“Because I want to, okay?”

Noah clenches his jaw, looking away from her. She thinks he’s not going to say anything else, so Jack turns and starts to walk away, but he catches her arm. 

“You think he can make you happy, Eichs?” He asks, voice low. He’s right up in her space now, so close that she can feel his breath on her cheek. When she looks up at him, there’s hurt in his eyes. “You think he can get you off like I can?”

Jack feels like she’s been thrown into an ice bath. 

“You don’t fucking own me, Noah,” she spits. Noah looks taken aback. 

“Okay, Jack,” he says, taking a step back, letting her arm drop. “I’ll, just. I’ll see you later.” He turns and walks back to the VIP section. She’s breathing heavy, heart racing. She takes a few steadying breaths, before making her way outside. 

Adam is waiting for her there. She doesn’t let him get a word in, stepping quickly into his space, and kissing him as soon as she’s close enough. He’s taller than her, which she likes, and broader, which she really likes. His hands are big on her where he’s gripping her hips and her ass and he’s a pretty good kisser. Yeah, Jack thinks, she can work with this. 

They take a car back to her place, lazily kissing in the backseat, Jack’s hand firmly placed on Adam’s thigh. When they’re almost at her apartment, she cups him through his jeans, squeezing lightly. He pants into her mouth.

“You’re a dirty girl, huh?” he asks.

Jack smiles. “You have no idea.”

—

At her apartment, she presses Adam to her door, kissing him soundly, while holding his arms above his head. He yields easily, making Jack moan. His lips are so soft under hers and his tongue is hot in her mouth. Jack pulls back to kiss along Adam’s jaw, his stubble scraping against her chin. 

“Wanna move this to the bedroom?” he asks. Jack nods, taking his hand and leading him across her apartment. 

It’s easy to push Adam down on her bed, to climb on top of him. She likes the strain on her hips that she feels when she spreads her legs wide over his thighs. He leans up to kiss her, threading his hands through her curls, and _yanking_. She throws her head back, laughing. He’s not gentle with her, understanding that she can take it, and she likes it. 

Adam grabs her ass through her jeans, pulling her closer to him, before flipping them. For a moment, Jack freezes.  

“Everything good?” he asks.

“I don’t really like being on my back,” she says. He frowns a little, but nods. 

“No worries,” he says, backing up.

Jack thinks for a moment of Noah, and how it feels with him. How much she likes it when he crowds into her space and presses her into the mattress. She wonders, would it be like that with Adam?

“Actually,” she says, “it’s fine.” He raises an eyebrow at her. “Let’s try it.” 

“Okay, if you’re sure,” he says. He leans back down, tucking her hair behind her ear, before kissing her. 

Adam’s pretty good at reading the play. He’s good at understanding when she needs something from him, and he gives it to her. It’s good.  

It could be better.

Jack tries not to think about what it would be like if he had longer hair, or if he knew about the spot on her neck she likes best.  

It’s easy to let Adam strip her down, to let him kiss down her chest, to let him lick into her. He’s really into it, so she tries her best to focus on the task at hand. 

“Hey,” she says, after a few minutes. Adam looks up at her. His chin is wet, and she has a flashback to the first night she slept with Noah. She squeezes her eyes shut, breathing out through her nose.

“Yeah?” he asks, thumbs rubbing circles on the insides of her thighs. 

“I’m good,” she says, running her fingers through his hair. “Come up here.” She tugs gently on his hair, trying to pull him up to her. He goes easily, sliding up the mattress. Her thighs are spread around his body and she can feel him hard against her belly. She reaches down between them, stroking him a few times, before saying, “You should get a condom on.”

She motions to the drawer where she keeps them, laying back while he gets ready. 

“This position still good?” he asks, moving back to kneel between her legs. 

Jack nods her head. “Yeah, I’m good.”

Adam leans forward to kiss her, reaching down to touch her. He thumbs at her clit, making her shiver, before he pushes in. She’s wetter than she expected—which, objectively, is something she’s glad for—but she kind of hates that she’s so turned on by this, too. By him.

He moans into her neck when he’s fully seated, hands flexing on her hips.

“Fuck, Jack,” he says, with his face pressed to her sternum. She runs her fingers through his hair, waiting for him to catch his breath. 

He sits back after a few moments, pulling her closer to him by her thighs. The angle is really working for her, making it easy for her to throw her head back and whine. She meets him, thrust for thrust, until her thighs start shaking.

“C’mon, Adam,” she says. “ _Fucking_ , fuck me.” 

He does—taking her by the hips and fucking into her hard. She reaches between them, thumbing at her clit, and begging for it to be over. Adam comes with a shout, slumping forward. She comes moments later, almost an afterthought. 

“Wow,” Adam says, after pulling out and rolling over, “that was incredible.”

“Yeah,” she says, staring at the ceiling. “Amazing.” 

He leaves a little while later, with a kiss to her forehead, and a promise to call. Jack’s not counting on it. 

She lies there for a while, still and staring up at the ceiling, before she pulls the covers up around herself, rolls over in bed, and buries her face in the pillow. It smells like Noah. 

She can’t stop the tears of frustration that bubble up. That night, for the first time in years, Jack cries herself to sleep.

—

Noah doesn’t text her the next day, or the day after. Jack starts to get the feeling that Noah might not talk to her at all for the rest of the offseason if she doesn’t drag it out of him. 

Ultimately, Jack plucks up what little courage she has left, gets dressed, and goes over to Noah’s apartment one evening. She doesn’t text before heading over, afraid that he might not answer the door if he knows she’s coming. 

When she knocks, she can hear him approaching the door, so when he doesn’t open it immediately, it stings. He’s hesitating. He never hesitates when it comes to Jack.

She considers leaving. Would he watch her through the peephole until she was gone? Embarrassment ripples through her at the thought. Would he really let her do that?

She shifts from foot to foot, waiting. 

Noah opens the door. He looks… tired. There are circles under his eyes and his hair is a little greasy. He doesn’t look at her when he says, “Hey, Jack.”

“Can I come in?” she asks. He doesn’t answer, but swings the door wider. She slips past him, toeing her shoes off by the door. Normally, she’d make herself at home, collapsing onto his couch and curling into his side. Instead, she stands stiffly in the foyer of his apartment, waiting for him to make the first move. He walks into the living room, gesturing for her to follow him. 

They sit on opposite ends of the couch. It’s the weirdest interaction they’ve ever had. 

She knew, abstractly, that he was angry at her. For what, she wasn’t entirely sure. Jack wasn’t sure how this would go, but whatever this is, isn’t it. 

“Are you mad at me?” she asks. He doesn’t answer. “It’s okay if you are,” she says, picking at a thread on her jeans. “I just want to understand what I did so I can fix it.”

Noah laughs, quiet and a little bit bitter. 

“Did you fuck him?” he asks.

Jack swallows hard, looking down at her knees. “Yes,” she admits. She wants to tell him that Adam meant nothing to her, that she thought about Noah the whole time. Somehow, she knows that won’t help.

Noah sighs. “Are you going to see him again?” 

“No,” Jack says, brows knitting together. “It wasn’t like that.”

“What was it like then, Jack?” Noah’s looking at her now. He looks tired. He looks _angry_.

“You don’t get to be mad at me about this, Noah,” she says. “We’re not _exclusive_. We agreed to hook up for the summer. That’s it.”

Noah looks like she might as well have slapped him. “I think we should stop hooking up,” he says. He sounds resigned. 

Jack hates herself for making him sound that way. “Okay,” she says. “If that’s what you want.”

Noah nods, looking down at his hands. “That’s what I want.”

Jack sits there for a moment, breathing deeply, before standing up. “I should go,” she says.

“You don’t have to,” Noah says, catching her hand. “You could stay.” 

“But you said—”

“I know what I said, Jack.” He looks up at her. “But, one last time couldn’t hurt.” And he—he looks so _sad_. 

She did that. 

Jack nods and lets Noah lead her toward his bedroom. He kisses her in the doorway, softly, slowly. It’s only been three days, and she already misses the way he tastes, the way his tongue feels sliding across her lips and into her mouth. She makes a broken sound when he thumbs at her neck, stroking the spot that never fails to do it for her.  

“Hanny,” she says when she pulls away, resting her forehead on his. He shushes her, kissing her again. His hands slide from her waist to her ass, and just like the first time, he picks her up. It’s easy for her to wrap her legs around his waist, to kiss from his mouth across his jaw, to suck a mark below his ear. 

“Fuck, Jack,” he pants, face pressed into her shoulder. 

She pulls him back, looking him in the eye, and asking, “Are you going to take me to bed, or what, Noah?”

Jack feels the tremor that goes through his body, sees the way his eyes glaze over. Within seconds, he’s across the room, dropping her on the bed. He strips quickly, pulling his shirt over his head and pushing his sweats down his thighs. Jack reaches down, unbuttoning her jeans and pushing them down her hips. He all but rips the shirt off of her, slinging it across the room. 

And then he’s on her, pressing her down into the mattress. _Yes_ , she thinks, this is what she was missing when she was hooking up with Adam. _This_ feels right.  

He kisses her hard, hands wandering down her body to push her thighs open around him. 

“How do you want me?” she asks. 

“What?” Noah asks, preoccupied with kissing down her chest. 

“How do you want me?” she repeats. “Like this?” she asks, gesturing down at herself. He frowns a little. 

“No, I— ” he shakes his head, hair falling into his eyes. “Actually, there’s something I want to try.”

“Okay,” Jack says. “Anything you want.”

“Anything?” He frowns.

Jack nods. Noah nods back, looking down at her body, where she’s spread out over his sheets. He watches, enraptured, as he trails his hands over her, thumbing at her nipples, hands cupping her breasts. His hands continue on down over her ribs, to her waist, circling it, before sliding down further. When he gets to her hips, he presses them into the mattress, before pushing her thighs even further apart. He settles on his belly between them, and licks into her.  

She can’t help it, but she throws her head back at that first touch. It’s not the best feeling in the world, not yet. She’s not turned on enough for it to feel like much of anything really, but his mouth is warm and wet, and the way he’s looking at her makes it feel incredible.  

He takes his time with her, alternating between licking and sucking, fingers teasing at her hips, right where they meet her thighs. When he finally sucks at her clit, her back bows, thighs going tense around his head. 

“Oh fuck,” she whispers, biting her lip. Noah hums into her, slipping one, then two fingers inside of her. After over two months of hooking up, he knows what she likes. And the way he’s putting all of his knowledge to use tonight? Devastating.

In no time at all, he’s got her right on the edge, panting. Her hand is fisted in his hair, holding him right where she wants him.  

“I’m so close,” she tells him. Jack knows he can tell, can feel it in the way her legs shake every time he sucks at her or fucks into her just right. Noah hums before pulling his fingers out of her, sitting back on his haunches, before sliding up the bed to lay next to her.

She moves to straddle him, but he holds her back.

“Not like that,” he says, before grabbing her by the waist and turning her over onto her side so that her chest is pressed all along his front. “Like this,” he says. And, _oh_. All the times they’d spent wrapped around each other in bed, she’d never thought of this. 

Clearly, Noah had. 

He brushes his lips against hers, licking into her mouth, before turning over to get a condom out of his nightstand.  

“Okay?” he asks once he’s turned back towards her. 

She nods. “Okay.”

He arranges them to his liking, one arm under her neck, wrapped around her shoulders so he can pull her into him. With his other, he pushes her leg forward, towards him, and over his hip, leaving her feeling open and vulnerable. It’s easy, from there, for him to slide into her.  

He kisses her then, open-mouthed and wet, tongue fucking into her mouth as he starts to thrust into her. It punches a whine out of Jack that she’d feel embarrassed about under normal circumstances, but now, she can barely control the sounds falling from her mouth. 

Noah’s kissing down her chest, sucking marks into her collarbone. Knowing that this is the last time, that he’s leaving his mark on her… it makes her ache. She’ll walk around with those for days, reminders of what they did, what they’ve been, what they’ll never be again.

“You with me, Eichs?” he whispers. Jack nods. “Good,” he says, before gripping her hip with his free hand and pulling her forward against him. 

It’s—it’s good. It’s overwhelming, actually, and Jack knows it’s not going to last. Noah grabs her thigh from where he’d pushed it forward, wrapping his hand around it, before pushing it up towards her chest. Jack cries out, unexpectedly.

“Yeah? Like that?” 

He thrusts into her again, a long, slow slide that lights her up. She can’t answer, just reaches down to wrap her hand around his wrist, holding him close. He fucks into her like that for a while, getting her deep, until her thighs start to shake. She tries pushing forward on him, trying to get more of what she needs, but finds she lacks the leverage.

“I got you, Eichs,” he says, forehead pressed into hers. He lets go of her thigh to snake a hand down between their bodies, pressing at her clit. Jack cries out.

“That’s it, Jack. Come on,” he says. His thrusts are getting shorter, rougher, and she can tell he’s getting close, too. Jack tilts her hips just so and that’s it, she’s coming, pleasure zipping up her spine. She hears Noah curse, sound muffled from the way his face is buried in her chest. His rhythm is off now, thrusts erratic as he pushes into her once, twice, before coming. 

They lay there in silence for a few moments, breathing in tandem, before Noah slips out of Jack. She feels him get out of bed for a brief moment, but before she can process it, he’s right there next to her again, crowding into her space. His hand finds her in the darkness. She threads their fingers together easily, holding them close to her chest over Jack’s heart.  

—

Rain is pounding off the window of Noah’s apartment. Jack had been dead asleep when a particularly loud clap of thunder woke her up. When she rolls over towards the window to watch the storm, she sees that Noah is awake too and looking at her.

He’s staring at her with his always-sleepy eyes, but there’s something different this time. Something she can’t place. Something that settles over her in waves. He brings his hand up to cup her face, stroking her cheekbone. 

“You’re my best friend, you know that, right?” he asks, voice low and rough, whispering into the quiet space between them.

Jack nods her head, makes an almost hurt, confused sound. “Hanny?” 

Noah shakes his head at her, leaning in to kiss her forehead. “Go back to sleep, Jackie.” 

And for once in her life, she listens to him.

—

The bed is empty when Jack wakes up in the morning. Noah hasn’t left a note, but she knows he’s gone to training. She also knows that he’ll want her gone by the time he gets back.

So, she pulls herself out of bed, gets dressed, and drags her ass home.

—

Jack and Noah don’t talk all the time during the season; being professional hockey players didn’t really allow for that. But they did check in weekly, texting and facetiming and sending each other memes through Instagram. 

The days and weeks after they end their… thing… is the longest Jack’s ever gone without speaking to Noah since they met. She’d like to think that she’s handling it well, but she hasn’t left her couch for anything other than training in days.

After making her way through all of her Crying Films™ ( _Bright Star_ , _About Time_ , _Never Let Me Go_ ), she decides she needs a break, lest she dry out completely.

Across the room, Jack spots the _Star Wars_ box sets Noah had left in her apartment almost a month ago. They’d intended to watch them together. She’d _promised_ to watch them, after all. They just… never got around to it.  

She thinks, what the hell, right? 

Jack puts Episode I in and settles in on her couch. 

They’re enjoyable films, and Jack thinks that had she grown up watching them, she would’ve loved them. Maybe not as much as Noah does, but… she sees the appeal. She can imagine what it was like for Noah, tall and awkward and a little bit quiet. How he would’ve escaped into these films, holed up in his room playing with his lightsaber and pretending he was living in a galaxy far, far away. 

Thinking about it makes her heart hurt. 

She just misses him so damn much.

— 

Much later, Jack’s watching Episode V in bed. Han’s about to be frozen in Carbonite and Jack’s heart is racing. She's gotten kind of attached to him. There's just something about the way he uses bravado as a mask... Jack can relate to that.

“I love you,” Leia says.

“I know,” Han says.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Jack says. 

She falls asleep with the lights on, DVD menu music playing all night long. When she wakes, she feels slightly less empty than she had the day before, and maybe, just a little, hopeful.

She watches Episode VI while eating breakfast and doing some light weight work. Episode VII is watched while she eats lunch and preps meals for the rest of the week, and Episode VIII she watches over the Shake Shack she orders (her nutritionist can get _fucked_ , she’s having a _crisis_ ). 

At approximately 7:09, she realizes that, apart from starting on the television series, she has no more _Star Wars_ to watch. She wants to call Noah so bad to talk about it with him, but she doesn’t think he’d answer.

Jack had texted him the day after their… whatever. Break up, she guessed she would call it if pressed, but that didn’t seem right. They weren’t… together. It’s not like he was her boyfriend.  

She’d found one of his sticks in her gear bag and wanted to let him know she had it. She hadn’t expected the text she’d gotten back. 

 **hanny 💪🏻🇺🇸😍**  
_really need some space rn  
don’t call_

Truth be told, Jack had been trying to give him space. She’d been planning to give him as much space as he needed until he felt like they could be just friends again. She hadn’t expect him to be so blunt about it. 

She also wasn’t entirely sure what she’d done wrong. Sure, she hadn’t been kind to him after finding out that he’d told Auston. She’d thoroughly iced him out in front of the boys. But he’d betrayed her trust.

And yes, _okay_ , she’d told Sam. But she knew that Sam wouldn’t tell anyone. 

_Everyone_ knew Auston couldn’t keep a secret worth a damn.

And yes, she’d had sex with someone else. But they weren’t exclusive.

Were they?

She didn’t think they were. They’d certainly never agreed to be. But Noah had been so _angry_ when she left with Adam and had been hurt when she’d told him what she’d done.   

He also hadn’t liked finding out about Pasta. Or Dylan, for that matter.

So… what? He was jealous? Or maybe, judgmental?

If he was judgmental about the number of guys she’d had sex with, well, fuck him. She didn’t need that kind of negativity in her life. She liked sex, and she was young and wild and free. Or whatever the cliche was. If she were a guy, she’d be commended for it.

Jack didn’t think that was the issue. Noah had never seemed to care before. He’d been her wingman enough times in college that she knew it didn’t bother him that she slept around. Hell, he’d been entertained by tales of her exploits more than a few times. He’d always laughed, egging her on. 

So, what? He was jealous? But jealous of who? The guys she slept with? He’d had sex with her plenty of times this summer, so there wasn’t anything to _be_ jealous about. She’d had more sex with Noah than she’d had with just about anyone, at this point. 

(That was a realization she wasn’t quite ready for.)

Thinking about it, about all of it, made her head hurt. 

She couldn’t call Noah. She wouldn’t call Charlie. Dylan would be no help. Her mother was absolutely out of the question.

She calls Sam. 

“Hello?” Sam asks, answering on the third ring.

“I fucked up,” Jack says, voice cracking. 

“Oh, Jack—”

“You said I would and you were right and I know you said not to call but—” 

Jack’s trying not to cry, but her face is hot and her vision is going blurry and her throat feels tight.

“Jack, no, hey. Listen,” Sam whispers, her voice soft, like she’s talking to a spooked animal, “listen, I know what I said. But I’m glad you called.”

“He doesn’t want to talk to me.” 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really,” Jack admits, though she knows she should She really, _really_ should.

“That’s okay,” Sam says. “We can talk about something else.”

“Okay,” Jack mutters, settling back into the blanket nest she’s made on the couch.

“Did I tell you I was going to Vancouver Pride?” Sam asks. Jack hums in acknowledgement. She thinks she remembers that. “It was great. I walked with some friends. I met a lot of amazing people.”

“Did you take Carly?” Jack asks, thinking of the cute redhead Sam was seeing at the beginning of the summer.

“Hm? No, uh. That didn’t end up working out.”

“Oh, man. Sorry that—” 

“Nah, it’s okay. We just, wanted different things.” And Jack… she thinks she really gets that right now. “Anyway, I ran into Morgan Rielly. From the Leafs.”

“Oh yeah?” 

“Yeah. I didn’t know she was a lesbian! I was really surprised to see her there.”

Jack laughs. “You didn’t know that _Morgan Rielly_ was a lesbian. Sam…”

“Okay, listen, I don’t like to assume. I always got, you know, _vibes_ , but—” 

“I mean, how much more evidence did you need, Reino. It’s all pretty, like, surface level. She lets it all hang out, so to speak.”

Sam grunts, like Jack’s just said the most irritating thing in the world. “Okay, _Jack_ , just because you clocked big butch Travis Konecny, doesn’t make you an expert.” Jack tries not to be offended by that. “With Mo, I couldn’t tell if she was, like, sport butch or, like, _butch_ butch.”  

“So what’s the verdict?” Jack asks, bored.

“What?” 

“When are you taking her out? Toronto’s not that far.”

Sam sputters. “I’m not taking her out.” 

“Why not?”

“Because. I just, _because_.” Jack wishes Sam could see the eyebrow she’s raised at her. “I don’t even think she’s into me. I mean, she did say that my San Junipero t-shirt was one of the coolest shirts she’d ever seen and asked me where I got my orange Birkenstocks but—”  

“Sam,” Jack says, “I’m pretty sure she proposed to you.”

Sam laughs, arguing that there’s no possible way Jack could know that, but it sends her off on another tangent.  

Jack feels less alone after they hang up, over an hour later. She’s glad she called.

—

The day before her sister’s wedding, Jack realizes that she’s going to it alone. She hasn’t seen or spoken to Noah in weeks. She doesn’t count on that changing in the next twenty-four hours.

Jack’s too embarrassed to tell her sister—or god forbid, her mother—that Noah isn’t coming. So, she doesn’t. She’d rather tell them the day of that he’s sick or got called away or… something, anything other than the truth.  

That evening, Jack heads out of the city to her sister’s rehearsal. Jack has to admit, the location Jessie and Johnny selected is perfect for them. The house is old, historic Jack would assume, on a huge plot of land overlooking the ocean. From what she can remember, the ceremony will be on the lawn and the reception will be in a tent—weather permitting.

It’s raining when she pulls up outside of the house. Jessie will be _pissed_. 

Inside, Jack finds her mother pacing.

“Oh, there you are,” she says upon seeing Jack, and then, “Where’s Noah?” 

“What?” Jack asks.

“Why didn’t you bring him?”

“Was I supposed to?” 

“ _Joanna_. Sometimes I think you’re trying to kill me,” she says. “No, you weren’t supposed to bring him. He’s not part of the wedding party, but… it would’ve been nice to see him.”  

Her mother smoothes her hands down Jack’s arms, tugging on the cuff of her suit jacket. 

“A suit, Jack?” she asks.

“I look good in this suit,” Jack says, jaw clenched. It’s one of the suits she wears during the season, grey plaid, perfectly tailored.  

Her mother frowns, slight enough that you wouldn’t realize it if you didn’t know her, but Jack knows. She knows all too well. 

“Hm. I suppose,” she says, smoothing Jack’s lapels. “Could you at least do up another button?” she asks, eyes trailing down to Jack’s cleavage, visible through the gaping neckline of her shirt.

“Absolutely not.” 

Her mother sighs. “Fine. Go find your sister, please. She’s driving me up the wall.”

Jessie is sitting in what Jack thinks could best be described as a parlor. 

“Can you believe this?” Jessie asks when she sees Jack. “Fucking _rain_.”  

“It’ll be fine, Jessie. It’s not supposed to rain tomorrow.”

“But what if it _does_?” she whines. “My hair won’t handle that well, Jack.”

“God forbid you’re forced to acknowledge that your hair is actually curly in front of your family and friends.”

Jessie glares at her.

“What if it’s a sign?”

“What, that like, you and Johnny aren’t meant to get married?” Jack asks. Jessie shrugs. 

“ _Jessie_. Don’t be stupid. You and Johnny are perfect for each other. It’s not a sign.”

“But how do you know?”

“I _don’t_ know,” Jack sighs. “I don’t _know_ anything.”

Jack walks across the room and sits next to Jessie on the chaise. It’s a tight fit. They’re both tall, broad women, and the chaise was clearly meant for someone much more petite.

“How’s this—if you change your mind at any point in the next twenty-four hours, yank on your earlobe, and I’ll smuggle you out.” 

“A secret sign?”

“Just like when we were kids.”

Jessie smiles. “I’m glad you’re here, Jack.”

“Where else could I possibly want to be?” she asks, wrapping an arm around Jessie’s shoulder. 

“Suit looks good on you,” Jessie says, instead of answering Jack’s question. 

“Mom didn’t think so.”

“Mom doesn’t know a thing about style,” Jessie says, rolling her eyes.

“Don’t let her hear you saying that,” Jack warns.

“I’m not afraid of her,” Jessie lies.

They’re both laughing when their mother finds them half an hour later, coming to collect them for the rehearsal.

—

All things considered, the rehearsal goes just fine. Jack’s attendant is easily two inches shorter than her, looking annoyed when he realizes as much. She makes a mental note to wear higher heels tomorrow.

“That wasn’t so bad,” Jack says to Jessie when they’re making their way into the hall for dinner. 

Jessie exhales loudly. “It could’ve been better. Becca can’t walk in heels and Taylor just dyed her hair red. She’s going to look _awful_ in pictures. I know she did it to spite me because I wouldn’t make her maid of honor.”

Taylor is their cousin and was Jessie’s best friend throughout childhood. In her opinion, since Jack wasn’t going to be maid of honor, that right should go to Taylor, the next closest family member. Jessie did not agree. That honor went to her college best friend, Jenna. 

Jack snorts. “I really wouldn’t put it past her.”

“Hey,” Jessie pulls up short outside the dining room. “You’re still okay with not being my maid of honor, right?” 

Jack looks down at Jessie and sees the worry written all over her face. “Yeah, Jess. I get it.” She wraps an arm around her, walking them over to the side of the room. “I’m not around, you know? It wouldn’t be fair to have the title and do none of the work.”

“I know, I know, I just…” she sighs. “You’re my sister and I love you, but...”

“I know, Jess. I get it. You don’t have to explain it to me.” Jessie’s smile is watery when she looks up at Jack. 

“Hey, no, none of that,” Jack says, hugging her tight to her chest. “Everything is going to go so smoothly, Jessie. You don’t need to worry about anything.” 

“What if it doesn’t?” she asks. 

“I’ll kick anyone’s ass for you. You just have to ask.” Jack feels her laugh.

“Sounds good,” Jessie says, pulling back.

“Good. Now let’s go get drunk,” Jack says, pulling her by the hand into the dining room.

—

The bridal party is staying at a hotel close to the venue. It’s nice, more upscale than the area is really known for, and kind of a treat for most of the party. Jessie wouldn’t let Jack pay for the wedding—any of it—so this was the least Jack could do. She has champagne and desserts waiting in all the suites and surprises the crew with massages in the morning, as well as a full breakfast. Jessie gives her a vaguely annoyed look when the last cart is rolled in. 

“You didn’t have to do this, you know,” Jessie says, plucking a strawberry off a tray of fruit. 

“I know,” she says, “but it’s not everyday that your big sister gets married.” Jessie’s expression is still annoyed, but a little softer around the edges. Jack figures that’s the best she’ll get, and is fine with it.

“Hey, come here for a sec.” Jessie pulls Jack across the suite and into the huge bathroom connected to Jessie’s room.  

“What’s up?” Jack asks, sitting on the edge of the tub. She watches as Jessie rummages through her suitcase. 

“I don’t want to give this to you in front of the girls,” she says, pulling a box from the bottom of the bag. “What I got them is nice, but… just. Here.” 

She hands Jack a velvety box. There’s no label on it, nothing that could give away what’s inside. Jack raises an eyebrow at Jessie before opening it.

Inside the box is a watch. 

Jack, like most hockey players—like most _athletes_ —has a lot of watches. Rolex. Cartier. Hublot. She collects them, loves to put time into picking out which watch to wear with which suit, loves the weight on her wrist.

This watch is the best watch she’ll ever own. 

“Jess—” she starts to say, but can’t finish her thought. Not with how choked up she is. 

“It was grandpa’s,” she says, voice soft. Jack nods. She knows. “It’s a new band and a new face, but. They said it was in really good shape inside.”

When Jack doesn’t say anything, Jessie starts wringing her hands.

“I just. I noticed you like watches and– do you like it?”

Jack laughs, breathy and wet sounding. “Like it? Jess… this is the best gift I’ve ever gotten.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

And then—

“Can I wear it tonight?”

“Absolutely not.”

—

The ceremony doesn’t start until 6:00, which Jack supposes sounds right for an evening wedding, but the waiting around is going to kill her. Her hair is done by 3:00 and her makeup is done by 4:00. After that, she’s expected to just sit around. For _hours_. Some of the bridesmaids are sipping on champagne. Most of them are taking pictures. Jessie looks fairly relaxed, sitting in a silky robe, eating fruit. Jack hopes she’s that calm on her wedding day. If she ever gets married, that is. She’s not counting on it or planning for it. At least, not right now.

Around 5:00, Johnny’s brother knocks on the door of the suite.  

One of her sister’s bridesmaids (Tiffany?) comes over to where Jack’s sitting and says, “There’s someone here to see you.”

“What?” Jack asks.

Tiffany shrugs. “I don’t know. Go ask Johnny’s brother.”

Jack groans, putting her champagne down. She straightens her robe out by the door before stepping out into the hall. She’s expecting to see Johnny’s dorky brother in the hall, but when she steps out, she sees Noah instead. 

“Oh,” she says, eloquently, jaw dropping open.

“Hey, Eichs,” he says, voice so soft it makes her heart hurt.

Noah’s done something with his hair for once, letting it go soft, small pieces falling into his face. He’s wearing an impeccably tailored suit, black, with a satin lapel and a bowtie to top it off. Jack would normally think the bowtie a goofy choice, but on Noah? It’s just really hot.

“What are you doing here?” she asks, then cringes, because even to herself, she sounds breathless. She suddenly realizes that she’s standing out in the hall wearing nothing but a satin robe. She pulls it tighter around herself. 

“Said I’d come, didn’t I?”

“Well, yeah,” she shrugs, shifting her weight from foot to foot, “but that was… before.”

“Do you want me to leave?” he asks, looking unsure.

“No. No! Of course not. _No_.”   

They stand silently in the hallway for a few moments, just staring at each other. 

“Okay,” Noah says finally. He’s smiling, kind of. Jack thinks it’s a step in the right direction. 

“Can you stay here for a second?” Jack asks, “I just remembered something.”

He gives her a small nod and Jack rushes back into the room, making a beeline for her bag. She’d packed most of her things for the wedding a while back. The shoes she was going to wear, her lingerie, her jewelry—the cufflinks she bought for Noah. She wraps her hand around the small box and rushes back towards the door, pausing for a second to compose herself.

Noah’s leaning against the wall when she steps back out into the hall. She tries not to think about how good he looks, or how much she’s missed him. 

“I, uh. I got you something,” Jack says, holding up the box. “A while ago. Kinda didn’t know when to give it to you.”

She hands it over to him, watching as he turns it over in his palms a few times.

“Now seems as good a time as any, right?” she asks. Noah looks up at her, gaze carefully blank, before opening the box, and looking at its contents. He’s quiet for a few moments. Long enough for Jack to get nervous.

She wants to ask what he’s thinking, if he likes them (or hates them? hates her?), but can’t make the words come out of her mouth.

Jack’s definitely not expecting him to hand the box back over to her. She almost fumbles the box when he puts it in her hands. Her stomach _drops_.  

“What—” she starts to ask, but then notices that Noah’s edging the sleeves of his jacket up so he can get to his cuffs easier. On his wrists, she can see black cufflinks made from a brushed metal. Matte and kind of sexy, if Jack’s honest. He slips them out one at a time, pocketing them, before holding a wrist out to Jack.

_Oh_ , she thinks, before scrambling to grab the cufflinks out of their box, holding them in one hand, while slipping the empty box into the pocket of her robe.

Gently, she takes hold of Noah’s cuff, slipping the cufflink through one hole, and then the other. When she’s done, she watches as Noah straightens them out.

“How do I look?” he asks.

“Good,” Jack says, swallowing hard.

“Fives?” 

Jack shrugs. “Couldn’t think of anything else. Five made sense.”

Noah nods. “Fifty-five together.”

He’s right. “I guess so.”

They stand in silence again, neither quite sure what to say to the other. 

“Do you need to go?” Noah asks, and then adds, “Get dressed.” He’s looking down at Jack like he’s noticed for the first time that she’s wearing nothing but a thin, silky robe.

Jack shrugs, wrapping her arms around herself. “I probably should. We have to go soon. You should too.”

Noah nods. “See you there?” 

“Yep,” she says, taking a step back towards the suite. “Meet you at the altar.”

Jack’s eyes go wide as soon as she realizes what she’s said. Noah looks thunderstruck.

“I mean– I just– “ Jack fumbles for the door handle behind her, grasping it, and shouting “Bye!” at Noah before falling back through the door, clicking it closed behind her.

On the other side, Jessie is staring at her. “Everything okay?”

Jack nods in an unconvincing way. “Yeah, of course. Never better.”

Jessie squints at her.  

“I gotta get dressed,” Jack says and makes a swift exit to her room. 

Despite the fuss Jack had put up, her dress isn’t ugly. Actually, for a bridesmaids dress, it’s fairly nice. The silhouette and length emphasize just how tall she is, while the neckline shows off her broad shoulders. The color, however, makes Jack’s lip curl. Pink is really just not for her.

She’s putting her shoes on when her mother pokes her head in. “Jessie’s about to come out,” she says. Jack nods. 

“Be right there,” she replies, focused on buckling her other shoe. Her mother nods, and leaves the door ajar. Of course.

Jack takes a look at herself in the mirror—at the updo she’d let the stylist wrangle her hair into, at the soft, dreamy makeup they’d put on her—before walking into the living room of their suite, just in time to see Jessie step out. 

She looks beautiful. Her dress is a nightmare of lace and tulle and is way too big in Jack’s opinion, but she’s glowing and radiating happiness.  

“You ready?” Jack asks. 

Jessie grabs a half-full flute of champagne from the table next to her, chugs it, and says, “Let’s fucking get married!” 

All of Jessie’s bridesmaids cheer and Jack looks on in amusement as they all scramble to gather up all the bits and pieces they need, before heading for the door. 

—

The ceremony itself is a blur. Jack remembers helping Jessie out of the car. She remembers all of them surrounding her, fluffing her dress, making sure her veil was just right, and handing out bouquets. She remembers the way her attendant sighed heavily when he saw that she was even taller than she was yesterday. She even remembers the way her heart raced when the music began to swell as they waited for Jessie to come down the aisle. 

(But what she’ll remember for the rest of her life is how Noah’s eyes met hers when Jessie and Johnny exchanged their vows. How she couldn’t stop looking for him in the crowd, seated down the row from her parents, _with_ her parents. Like he was hers.

 

 

She likes the idea of him being hers.)

—

Jack has to stick around after the ceremony for pictures, but she sees Noah lingering around the edges of the tent. Far enough away that she can’t talk to him. Close enough to be a distraction. At one point, she makes a face at him when Jessie is turned away and he smiles so big, her heart hurts.

When the photographer has finally stepped away and Jessie and Johnny have gone back into the house to have a few moments to themselves, Jack walks over to Noah. He hands her a drink immediately, which she downs in a few long gulps. 

“Thanks,” she says, handing the glass over to a waiter.

“You looked like you needed it,” he says.

Jack nods. “You have no idea. My mother—” Jack groans “—but it’s over. And now, we can get drunk.”

She looks up at Noah then and he looks impossibly fond. 

“Sounds like a plan,” he says, offering Jack his arm. She takes it, and they walk into the tent.

— 

Jessie had opted not to do a table for the bridal party, choosing to seat their parents with Johnny’s parents and Jack with Johnny’s siblings. She’d rather be sitting with Jessie’s airhead friends, truth be told, instead of Johnny’s weird brothers. But at least she has Hanny. 

He’s a solid presence by her side all night, arm slung over the back of her chair, laughing at all the stupid jokes people tell. They don’t talk much beyond the normal wedding small talk, which should worry Jack, but it’s nothing she can handle right now. She sinks into the warm comfort of just being Jack and Noah again, all complications forgotten.

After dinner is over, Jack goes to make with her mother, talking to family members she hasn’t seen in ages. Across the tent, she notices Noah dancing with Jack’s Great Aunt Garnet, a woman who’s been around since the dawn of time. She’s tiny from old age, hard to hear, and hard of hearing. But Noah’s right there, spinning her around the dance floor and laughing like it’s—like it’s _nothing_. He catches Jack looking and smiles at her, this shy, soft thing that makes her stomach do flips. 

It’s at that precise moment that it hits her like a ton of fucking bricks. This whole summer, this whole _fucking_ summer, she’s been fooling around with Noah, thinking that it was just bros having sex—and she’s been falling for him. She’s been falling for him this whole time. Like, knees weak, can't eat, can't sleep, reach-for-the-stars, over-the-fence, World Series kind of stuff. And _god_ she’s an idiot. She’s been so _stupid_.

Her heart is racing too fast when she makes her way from the edge of the dance floor to where her sister is standing in the back of the tent. She grabs her by the elbow, pulling her away from who the fuck ever she was talking to. In her haste, she hears Jessie saying, “Hey!” and trying to pull away, but Jack’s stronger.

“911, sister emergency right fucking now,” she hisses out at Jessie. She comes easier after that.

Outside the tent, it’s dark, the moon reflecting on the water. She can barely see her sister, save for how her dress lights up in the moonlight. 

“What’s going on, Jack?” Jessie asks, hands on her hips. 

“I love him.” 

Jessie’s arms fall to her sides. “Yeah, and?” 

Jack’s pacing now, heels getting stuck in the grass every few steps. It’s pissing her off. “No, I—I love, _Noah_ , Jessie. I love him.”

“Not seeing the problem here, Jack,” she says, looking exasperated. 

“We were just—we were just hooking up this summer. It wasn’t supposed to _be_ anything and, and he’s just so, you know?” Jessie quirks an eyebrow at Jack. She doesn’t know. “He _gets_ me. All the ugly pieces of me. And he still _likes_ me somehow.” Jack shakes her head, wraps her arms around herself. She’s stopped pacing now, instead staring out at the water. “It’s like, you know how you can hate all these things about someone, and still love them? Like, I hate the way he never does anything with his hair. Just lets it grow out all stupid, before cutting it off when he gets tired of it. Or, like, the way he calls me _Jackie_ when he thinks he’s being cute,” Jack stops pacing and exhales, looking up towards the sky. It’s really beautiful this far out of the city. The night’s sky is just starting to really shine. 

“But also like, he’s a genuinely good guy who’s way out of my league, and he just, brings out the best in me. And yet…”

“And yet?” Jessie asks. She’s closer now, close enough to touch.

“And yet, I love him, Jess.”

Jessie does touch her then, pulling Jack in and clutching her tight to her. “God, Jack. I’m so happy for you. I know we’re not close, not like when we were kids, and sometimes I really can’t stand you—” 

Jack laughs. “Thanks, Jess.”

“—but you deserve this. You deserve to be happy.”

“You’re only saying that because you just got married.”

Jessie laughs. “Maybe. But I still think it’s true.” She pulls back and holds Jack at arms length. She’s beaming. “I gotta get back to my reception. And I think you should talk to Noah.”

Jack exhales, shakily. “Yeah—Yeah, I should probably do that.”

—

Noah’s back at the table when Jack enters the tent. He takes one look at her and knows something is wrong. 

“You okay, Eichs?” he asks. She nods, sitting down hard. 

“Just… sister chats, you know? Lot to process,” she says.

He hums and pushes a flute of champagne closer to her. She drinks it down readily.  

“Nervous for your speech?” he asks.

Jack hums in affirmation. “I don’t like being… soft,” she says. 

“I know,” Noah says, “but you’re gonna be great.”

“Sure hope you’re right, Hanny. If it’s a shit show, promise to get me blackout drunk so I forget?”

Noah laughs, “Sure, Jackie. No problem.”  

And then—

“You look really beautiful tonight, Eichs.”

“Yeah?” She can feel her cheeks heating up from the compliment. The tips of Noah’s ears have gone red.

“You always look beautiful,” he says pushing a loose curl back behind her ear. Jack could swear that her world just, abso-fucking-lutely up-ends. 

—

Her hands are shaking when they call for the sister-of-the-bride a few minutes later. She stands up to introduce herself, feeling a bit coltish in her heels, both from anxiety and from how much she’s had to drink. Noah touches her thigh through her dress briefly, a settling touch. It feels like a brand, but it helps her to steel her nerves.

“Hey, everyone. I’m Jack, Jessie’s baby sister.” There are a few, scattered laughs through the tent—polite and well-timed enough that they help her settle into the moment. 

“Growing up, Jessie and I were close enough in age to be both best friends and each other’s competition. Anything Jessie could do? I was convinced I could do better. She joined the choir, I had to have a solo. She won a State Championship, I had to go to Regionals. She got a rowing scholarship, I got drafted second overall to the NHL.” 

More laughter. Jessie rolls her eyes at the head table. 

“When it came to matters of the heart, Jessie always excelled. Even before Johnny, Jessie was able to let people into her life and into her heart in ways I could never hope to achieve. You’re all a testament to that,” Jack says, gesturing around the room to all of Jessie and Johnny’s friends.

“But after Johnny, Jessie became a different person. A better person. Her love for Johnny made her unafraid of being vulnerable,” Jack swallows, “of being _seen_ in her entirety.”

Jack pauses for a second, looking up at Jessie, whose eyes are watering.

“I can only hope to be that lucky someday. To find someone who makes me _want_ to be vulnerable. Someone who makes me want to be seen and appreciated for all of my faults and all of my flaws—and loved because of it, not in spite of it.”

Jack makes the mistake of looking at Noah for the briefest of moments. She isn’t sure what she was expecting to see, but it isn’t this. 

_Noah_ is tearing up. He has his hand pressed to his mouth and his elbow braced on the table, like he’s physically holding his words in. He’s never looked at her like this before, the intent behind his eyes so utterly unfamiliar.

“To Jessie and Johnny,” Jack manages to get out, a beat too late. 

“To Jessie and Johnny,” everyone repeats.

As the music picks back up, Jack makes a decision. She doesn’t sit down, instead leaning over Noah to whisper into his ear, “Can I talk to you outside?”

He stands quickly, knocking Jack off balance.

“Jeez, where’s the fire, big guy?” One of Johnny’s annoying brothers says.

Jack sends him a withering look, before taking Noah’s hand and leading him out of the tent.

She doesn’t talk as she all but drags him across the lawn. When she stops, they’re far enough away that the music from the tent is faint. More ambiance than anything else.

Now that they’re here, now that she’s so close to what she’s always wanted but never thought she could have, never thought she could _let_ herself have—she’s not sure what to do. Part of her wants to reach out and just, fucking _grab_ it with both hands and never let go.   

Another part of her, a much louder part of her, is telling her to kick off her heels and fucking _run_.

“I fucked up,” Jack says. 

“What?” Noah says, looking extremely confused. She doesn’t blame him.

“This whole summer. I fucked up. I treated you like you were just… some other guy. Like you were one of my usual hookups,” Jack sighs, running her hands over her arms where they’ve started to break out in goosebumps, both from the chill and from how fucking _nervous_ she is, “but you’re not."  

“I’m not?”

Jack shakes her head. Some of the curls in her updo spring free. It takes all of her willpower not to just yank all the pins out of her hair.

“No,” she says on an exhale. “No, you could never be one of those guys. It will always be different with you,” she sighs. “You’re my best friend, Hanny.”

His smile is so, _so_ soft when she looks at him. God she’s been a fucking _idiot_ all summer. No guy has ever made her heart race like this before. How could she have thought that this was anything else? For all the romantic comedies and period dramas she watches, she should _know_ what this is.  

She’s not the queen of running from her feelings for lack of trying.

“I’m in love with you,” she says, rolling the dice, showing her cards, putting her heart on the line, et cetera, et cetera.

It would be easy for her to make her confession while looking at the grass or up at the stars. She really wishes she could.

But Jack’s never wanted to take the easy route.  

She looks Noah in the eyes when she says it, and continues to look at him while he processes it. Even if it makes her feel like she’s going to throw up everything she’s eaten in her twenty-one years of life.

Even if each passing moment with no reply makes her heart feel like it’s going to burst. 

“You… what?”

Lord help her—she’s in love with a moron.

“I love you,” she says, starting to feel annoyed, an unfortunate side effect she experiences anytime she’s vulnerable and it backfires.

“You love me.”

“Yes. Though I’m starting to wonder why.” She takes a step back from him, urge to pace overwhelming. He reaches out for her immediately, wrapping his hand around her upper arm.

“Hey wait, don’t. Don’t go anywhere,” he says. “I’m just. It’s a lot to take in, okay?”

“Okay.” 

“You’re in love with me,” Noah says. 

“ _Yes_ ,” Jack hisses. And then, “I watched fucking _Star Wars_ for you, and you weren’t even there!”

Noah looks up at her with amazement. “You watched _Star Wars_ for me?”

“All eight episodes, yeah.”

“Holy shit,” Noah says, taking a step towards Jack, before pulling her into him, and kissing her. 

Jack has kissed a lot of people in her life. She’s had good kisses and bad kisses. Soft kisses and hard kisses. Kisses with teeth and with tongue.

Nothing has ever been like this. 

Growing up, she’d always thought that her first kiss with someone she loved would be this soft, tender thing. This kiss with Noah couldn’t be further from it. He kisses her hard and open-mouthed, licking into her like he can’t get enough of her. Like he’s _hungry_ for her. His hands wrap in her hair, holding her tight, and she knows that her chignon is going to be absolutely _destroyed_ after this. She really does not care.

Noah rests his forehead against hers when he pulls back for air. This close up, she can see the freckles on his nose, and the movement of his eyelashes. She kind of wants to wake up to this every morning for the rest of her life.

“I’m so in love with you, Jack.”

“That’s good,” she says, hands smoothing down his lapels, trying to erase any wrinkles she might’ve put into them. 

“I think I’ve been in love with you since draft day,” he admits.

“That’s a really long time, Hanny.”

Noah hums. “Worth it, though.” 

“Ugh, lines _again_ ,” Jack says, before leaning down to kiss Noah again.

“You like it,” Noah says against her lips.

“I do,” Jack says, “ _Ugh_. I so do.”

—

Jack takes Noah back to her and Jessie’s suite that night. With Jessie and Johnny long gone, it’s just the two of them in the room.

“Help?” Jack asks, standing in front of Noah with her back turned. He’s behind her a moment later, close enough that she can feel the heat off his body. Her zipper comes down easily, Noah kissing each new inch of skin that’s revealed. When it’s loose enough, he pushes it down her arms, letting it fall to the floor.

“Jesus, Jack,” he mutters, taking in the lingerie she has on underneath. 

“You like?”

“Come _here_ ,” he says, spinning her around fully and pulling her to him.

—

Later, when they’re curled up in bed together, it’s easy to pretend that this could go on forever. 

Jack knows it won’t.

“When do you leave for Calgary?” she asks. Her hands are in Noah’s hair, threading through it over and over again. It’s a mess. She loves it.

“Two weeks,” he says. “You?” 

“The same.”  

“We play you in October. Right after your birthday, I think,” Noah says. “Got any plans?”

She can’t help but smile.

“I think I could probably clear my schedule for you, Hanny,” she says. 

“It’s a date then,” he says, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“I’ll make sure to pencil you into my planner.”

“Don’t be a dick,” he says, smiling. And then— “I see you.”

“What?” Jack asks, nose scrunching up. 

“I see you. You know that, right? I see you. And I love what I see. All of it.” 

“Hanny—”

“No, I mean it,” he tucks his hair behind his ear before reaching out to squeeze her chin. “There’s no way I’d rather spend my life, than listening to you bitch.” 

And Jack, well, she has no response for that. So she wraps herself around Noah, burying her face in his chest.

She may not know what tomorrow holds, or how their seasons will be, or if this will last forever. All she knows, is that in this moment, she has everything she’s ever wanted—and that’s more than enough.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote about Jack getting the captaincy before he actually got it, so clearly, I spoke this into existence.
> 
> Drop by my [fic twitter](http://twitter.com/honeywrites_) to chat about anything and everything!
> 
> This is part of an ongoing series I have planned, so be sure to subscribe!


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